


wrong place, right time

by the-reylo-void (Anysia)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Online Dating, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Catfishing, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, Everybody is Lonely, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Loneliness, Making Out, Online Dating, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Rey Needs A Hug, Sexting, Sharing a Bed, Strangers to Lovers, Vaginal Fingering, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-09-24 10:45:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17099135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anysia/pseuds/the-reylo-void
Summary: When Rey Niima gets an e-mail from a random dating site a week before Christmas, she quickly realizes that someone has hacked her info and created a fake profile using her picture. As if that weren't headache enough, the faker has been in regular contact with one user who actually seems kind of sweet.Kind of really sweet.And the holidays are so lonely...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I promise I'm still working on The Scavenger Bride! This is just an odd bit of quick smutty humor and fluff for Christmas for no real reason. Right now the plan is to have a chapter out every day and finish on Christmas, so I don't anticipate this being very long. It may end up being a belated Christmas gift to the fandom, but I'm going to do my best with it (especially the forthcoming smutty parts). 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it!

                    

 

Spam.

Coupon for a posh clothing store she can’t afford even with 40% off.

Reminder to renew the AAA membership she’s never really needed but Finn insisted on buying her when she’d first gotten the Falcon (“it’s almost like a car,” he’d said, glancing dubiously under the hood), even though she’s been able to keep the old girl running with her own sweat, tears, and frustration two years past 200,000 miles.

Rey sips the half-cooled Starbucks in her hand as the other flicks idly through the mail app on her phone and the bevy of e-mails that came in while she was working at the shop. A week before Christmas and it seems like every other message is from another retailer out of her miniscule price range, especially since Unkar had cut her hours back to near-starvation level.

_Last day for Christmas delivery!_ one cheery missive enthuses.

A deal on holiday gift sets from Sephora (that’s what she gets for buying a single tube of mascara for Finn and Rose’s wedding last year).

“Do you think they’d get the message if I just started writing back ‘hello, I’m poor’?” she asks Beebee. She toes at the fat orange cat lounging at the foot of the twice-mended futon she’d hauled from the dumpster at Poe’s old apartment building (the futon, not the cat — _that_ was a temporary arrangement based on Poe’s new building not allowing pets, but he was sweet-talking Holdo, his new landlord, he promises, he’s sure she’ll come around, could she just watch Beebee for a few weeks tops, that’s all?).

Holiday wishes from the free clinic where she’d gone for that screening after Poe had set her up with one of his friends who was totally above-board except for the weird rash. Delete.

_No plans for the holidays?_ an ad for a chain restaurant seems to taunt knowingly, and Rey grimaces. Finn and Rose had invited her over for dinner, like they always did, but Christmas was… well. For family, really.

Rose had her sister, Paige, and her nieces and nephews, and Finn may have been a kid from the system as much as Rey was, but he’d been folded wholesale into the Tico clan almost from the minute he and Rose had hit it off on a blind date three years back.

Poe didn’t have any family left, but he _did_ have his boyfriend, a decidedly unpleasant ginger-haired stockbroker whose watch cost more than Rey’s annual salary and who looked at her like something in her general vicinity smelled.

Which left Rey and Beebee by themselves a week before Christmas.

With far, far too many e-mails to get through.

_Ho-ho-holiday savings!_ Ugh. Delete.

_Need last-minute gifts?_ "It’s a lumpy homemade scarves kind of year, Gmail.” Delete.

_Happy Holidays from ForceConnection, SexyKira69 — best wishes for love in the new year!_

Rey’s finger pauses in mid-swipe, staring in confusion at her phone screen.

...what.

“Sexy. Kira. Sixty-nine,” she reads incredulously.

_Oh no._ Rey sighs in irritation as she types the site into Google. Sure enough: a flashy, sketchy-looking dating site.

Just another entry in the long saga that is her e-mail being hacked two weeks ago, undoubtedly. She’d gotten e-mails from her bank, from iTunes, from Wal-Mart, from what seemed to be every major retailer within a thirty-mile radius.

Several frustrating calls to the bank, multiple changed passwords, and a new debit card later, she thought she’d gotten everything under control.

“Looks like we missed one, Beebee,” she sighs again as she navigates to the site on mobile Chrome and follows the instructions for password recovery. “Might as well see what SexyKira69 has been up to.”

Beebee meows plaintively from near her foot, and Rey cracks a smile. “Well, okay, with a name like that we probably know _what_ she’s been up to. Just not with who. Or what.”

It takes thirty seconds for the password reset e-mail to come in, one minute to create a new password that meets the site’s specifications, one more minute to navigate ForceConnection’s searingly-bright menu and find her way to SexyKira69’s profile.

Where she’s promptly greeted with her own face, grinning with a pair of sunglasses perched on her head, clad in the patterned red bikini she’d bought for the beach weekend Finn and Rose had invited her on last summer that she’d awkwardly third-wheeled.

“Well, Beebee,” Rey says, raising an eyebrow as she scrolls. “You’ll be interested to know that I am apparently named Kira, I’m twenty years old… they got that part right, at least... I live in… Toronto, really, with that beach get-up? And I ‘love to have fun!’”

Beebee rolls onto her back with a curious meow, purring as Rey’s sock-clad toes rub at her belly.

“Let’s see who Kira has been talking to,” Rey murmurs, tapping the lit-up messages icon with… yikes, 118 notifications.

Most of them are one-off messages of the usual “hey cutie” fare, and Rey’s deep flush of embarrassment turns to boredom by the sixth dick pic.

But most of the messages are from one account, with whom SexyKira69 seems to have been having an actual conversation. Rey furrows her brow as she opens their messages, rolling her eyes at “Kira’s” clearly bot-authored missives and over-used winking and eggplant emojis.

“How hard up are you…” she reads, “...Ben_Solo?”

Unlike the rest of the messages, Ben_Solo’s words appear carefully typed, properly-capitalized and punctuated, and, her own curiosity getting the better of her, Rey scrolls back to the beginning of the conversation, four days earlier.

_Hello_ , Ben_Solo starts, and Rey stifles a laugh at the sheer _politeness_. Surely he knows he’s talking to a pornbot?

_I know you’re almost definitely a pornbot._  

...oh.

Well.

_But here’s the deal: it’s been a rough few years, to put it mildly. And I promised my mother I’d talk to at least one girl in 2018 to appease her. I have no interest in this, not under my current circumstances…_

He runs out of space, because of course he does. How much does this guy _talk?_

The next message continues:

... _but I imagine that I could use this as a way of following her insistence to the letter, if not the spirit. And assuming the picture of you exists in any real way, you’re pretty cute. I do like your freckles._

Rey purses her lips and feels a strange flush down her middle. She’s always hated her freckles on some level, envied Rose her smooth, clear skin, but even if she’s not SexyKira69… well, that _is_ her picture.

And Ben_Solo likes her freckles.

Rey groans, pressing her phone to her forehead. “Poe’s right,” she grumbles. “I need to get out more.”

Kira’s response is an automatically-generated “hey baby want to have fun tonight? *wink* *eggplant*”

Ben_Solo, to his credit, plays along.

_Fun, huh. Can’t say I’ve had “fun” in awhile. Not your kind, or any other kind. Neither have you, I’d bet. Poor thing, just an algorithm looking for a good time._

Rey cracks a smile at that. Against her better judgment, she taps on Ben_Solo’s username and opens his profile in a new tab.

It’s pretty much blank: the entirety of the profile section reads, “Ben. 29. Doctoral student.” The profile picture is a stock image of a closed book.

Rey rolls her eyes. “A little on the nose there, aren’t you, ‘Ben’.” She goes back to their conversation, where ‘Kira’ is asking for… oh dear.

_Right to the point, aren’t you. Honestly, I’m not sure if little Kira could handle it._

She laughs outright at that — well, he’s certainly a real man with _that_ kind of cocksure arrogance. “Listen, _Ben_ ,” she says to her phone, “‘Kira’ has had just a few partners in her day and I’m sure she could ‘handle’ you just…”

Her mouth goes slack as she scrolls and sees the picture Ben_Solo sends in his next message.

...oh.

Oh my.

Well.

Maybe she can be embarrassed by _one_ more dick pic.

Especially one that’s damn near crowding the screen. Its owner is clearly aroused, and it’s almost… _beautiful_ , in a way that has Rey flushing clear to her toes at the mere thought, the thick length curving gently into a waiting hand that’s bigger than anything she’s ever seen.

... _almost_ anything.

Rey’s cheeks are burning as she quickly scrolls through the next few messages, as ‘Kira’ generates a few badly-spelled requests for Ben_Solo to meet up with her.

Ben’s dick disappears into the ether, and Rey is strangely disappointed by it.

She sets her phone to the side for a few minutes, just long enough to grab a cold drink from the tiny kitchenette in the corner of her studio apartment.

She presses the cold can of Coke to her neck as she resumes scrolling through Ben_Solo’s messages.

_That was a mistake. Watch my dick show up on half a dozen amateur porn sites now. But there’s a part of me…_

There sure is, Rey thinks, pressing the cool metal more tightly to her skin.

_...that was hoping you’d at least be programmed for something, even if it was just basic sex chat. It’s harder to convince myself you could be Kira, the girl with the freckles when you’re…_

He pauses, and Kira takes the pause in the conversation as an opportunity to helpfully volunteer information about her pussy.

_...like that. I’d recommend a towel._

Rey laughs despite herself, and it’s the strangest fucking thing she’s done in months, maybe _years_ , scrolling through the conversations some random guy has had with a fake dating site profile with her picture on it.

And actually _enjoying_ it.

\---

Ben_Solo has a dry sense of humor, Rey observes as she scrolls through his messages. He never misses an opportunity to offer a droll comment on Kira’s programming and simplistic misspelled sex musings.

(He never sends more pictures, not even when ‘Kira’ sends him nudes of an entirely different woman, and Rey sends mute praise to the heavens that whatever hacker had scoured her e-mail account hadn’t found the snaps she’d taken the one time she’d splurged and gotten a bikini wax.)

The messages span several days, and as ‘Kira’ continues her entreaties for a meetup, Ben’s closed book seems to open just an inch or two.

He likes tomatoes and indie rock.

He hates zucchini and jazz.

He’s getting his doctorate in religious studies, specifically some complicated kind of historical theology combined with anthropology.

It doesn’t seem fair that he’s that smart with _that_ nice a dick, but for all she knows the rest of him is a mess, and he _is_ lonely enough to be having an extended conversation with a pornbot.

Rey pauses at that, frowning a little to herself.

And she’s lonely enough to be _reading_ his conversations with a pornbot on a Friday night.

“You and I,” she says to her phone with a humorless smile, “might just be the loneliest people on the planet.”

Ben seems to agree, judging by some of his commentary:

_This feels ridiculous on every level. The best thing I can tell myself is that this is placating my mother. She keeps asking me about my Kira. I’m just trying to get through Christmas, ‘Kira’._

“We’re the same on that one, Ben,” Rey murmurs. She glances to Beebee, who is now fitfully snoozing beneath the small, threadbare tree Rey had propped up in the corner of the living room/bedroom and strung with popcorn garlands, flickering lights, and a discounted pack of slightly-damaged generic ornaments from Walgreens.

She wonders where Ben lives, how far away he is.

Wonders what his Christmas is like.

He has a family, or a mother, at least, one who cares enough about him to want him to be with someone.

“That must be nice,” she says to Beebee, worrying her lip between her lower teeth. “To be loved like that.”

...but he’s still lonely.

A part of her can’t help but wonder why.

Rey’s eyes widen as her phone pings and the scrollbar on the messages screen suddenly shoots to the bottom.

_Ben_Solo is online_ , she reads.

And he’s typing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoooooly something, the reaction to this has been... overwhelming, to say the least. This is just a silly little humor/fluff/smut-fic, so I'm kind of over the moon about how much people are enjoying it! Thank you all so, so much for your lovely comments on the first chapter; I hope this one is just as fun!
> 
> (Just as a reminder, the plan is still to have a chapter a day through Christmas, although if I get into a rhythm we might make it to New Year's!)

_I hope your pussy is doing better today. Last I heard, it was… what, ‘sopping’?_

Rey flushes and stares expectantly at the screen, waiting for ‘Kira’ to auto-generate a response — something filthy and poorly-spelled, no doubt.

But nothing appears. Rey furrows her brow as minutes pass but the screen remains blank.

Ben notices.

_You’re awfully quiet today. I suppose that was rude of me, to open with something vulgar like that. I should wait for you to talk about your pussy first._

Still nothing.

Did something happen to ‘Kira’ when Rey took control of her profile?

Rey’s fingers are trembling as she stares at the blank message window before finally pulling up the mail app on her phone.

Sure enough, there are half a dozen emails from ForceConnection about attempts to access her account, likely from whatever scammer was behind the Kira-bot trying to break back into Kira’s profile.

But Rey had changed the password and activated two-factor authentication. Whoever ‘Kira’ was, they’d stopped trying to get into ForceConnection at 9:39 p.m., half an hour ago.

Which left Rey herself in SexyKira69’s shoes to face Ben_Solo.

_...hi_ , she types awkwardly in the messages tab while opening another to search for account deletion information. _How are you?_

Ben_Solo doesn’t respond for a few minutes.

Then:

_...that’s the most substantial thing you’ve ever said, Kira. Did they change your programming?_

No easy way to delete the account, because of course there isn’t. She quickly fires off a ticket to customer support before returning to the message window.

_My technological overlords added a spellcheck function,_ she writes, hoping against hope Ben will play along, like he has with every element of this weird dance they’ve inadvertently found themselves in thus far…

_And turned you into a real girl, I’d guess. Well. At least talking to a real person would be a nice change of pace. Or whatever new algorithm they’ve built into you that makes you sound halfway human._

Rey purses her lips, tapping her fingers on the edge of her phone case and contemplating her next move.

_Is your name still Kira?_

...sure, let’s go with that.

_As far as you know,_ she writes, in an attempt to sound sultry and mysterious, but Ben clearly isn’t having it.

_Okay, what’s going on here? We both know this is a scam. And I think I’ve done my duty to my mother by talking to a ‘girl,’ loosely speaking, even if you’re actually some weird Canadian guy behind a computer screen._

_I’m a girl,_ Rey writes, and she sighs, scrubbing her free hand over her face. _I’m not weird and I’m not Canadian. Look… I don’t know what’s going on here. All I know is that someone hacked into my email and stole my pictures and…_

Out of room. Damn it.

Three dots appear at the bottom of the screen, but she rushes on.

_...that’s really my picture, but my name’s not Kira. I never made this account. I can actually spell. And it’s none of your business what or how any of my bits are doing._

The three dots disappear, and Rey leans back against the rough upholstery of the futon and waits.

Then:

_I don’t believe you._

Rey furrows her brow as the three dots appear again, then:

_Amend that. I can believe that you were hacked, that someone used your email to create this account. But I don’t believe that you’re the girl in the picture. Too tidy a coincidence._

Rey frowns. _How do you want me to prove it?_ she types.

Beebee meows from under the tree, and Rey is startled back to reality. She quickly checks her e-mail, hoping for a follow-up response to her deletion query that will magically transport her out of this awkwardness.

Nothing. She sighs in irritation, thumping her head back against the futon.

The messages tab has lit up, and she hesitates. “What do you think the odds are that a guy who has long conversations with a pornbot _isn’t_ going to ask to see my tits?” she asks Beebee rhetorically before tapping on the tab.

_Take a picture of yourself holding up something with my username on it,_ Ben_Solo has written. _And today’s date._

Rey stares at her phone for a long moment, then looks at Beebee.

“Apparently better than I’d thought,” she mumbles, rising and making her way to the kitchenette.

It’s a tiny space, so small that she gets in her own way on the few occasions she tries to cook, but there’s enough free counterspace that she can grab the back of a discarded envelope and the Sharpie she keeps in the cup of pens by the microwave and scribble out _Ben_Solo_ and _December 18th_.

She hesitates, glancing to her phone.

The deletion is probably going to come through any minute — she’d specifically selected the “fraudulent or fake account” flag option — and it’s not like she’s ever going to talk to this guy again, so before she can second-guess herself, she quickly writes a note at the bottom of the envelope before capping the Sharpie and rushing back to her phone.

Rey thumbs the camera app on and switches to the front camera, grimacing a bit at the sight that greets her. She’s definitely looked better, what with her unwashed hair pulled into a haphazard twist and her eyebrows unplucked, but at least she hasn’t applied her nightly spot cream treatment yet.

She holds up the envelope and presses it to her cheek, managing a weak smile at the words she’s written down.

Taking a deep breath, she takes the picture.

_Ben_Solo._

_December 18th._

And then, there on the bottom in hastily-written Sharpie:

_You have a nice dick._

Before she can begin to doubt her decision, she’s back at the messages tab — no unread messages, and she imagines Ben sitting and waiting patiently behind his phone screen… no, a computer, he’s probably a laptop kind of guy, in a sparse but neatly-appointed room, or maybe some stuffy college library, and he probably lives by himself, too, someone lonely enough to be here on this site like this…

Not that she’s one to talk, of course.

Her fingers are trembling, but she hits the photo icon and attaches the most recent picture in her camera roll.

Holds her breath.

And hits ‘send’.

The picture flares to life in the messages window, next to a tiny checkmark that indicates the recipient has seen it.

One minute passes.

Then two.

Then three.

Rey checks the status indicator next to Ben_Solo’s username just to make sure that he’s still online. It’s still a green circle.

Rey pulls down on her mail app in a desperate attempt to refresh. Nothing. She opens the first e-mail she’d received, searching frantically for additional contact information, when she sees it, there at the bottom: ForceConnection’s address.

_Deutschland_.

Germany.

Where it is, by what little she remembers of time zones when she’d backpacked through Europe right after high school, about four in the morning. On a Saturday.

Meaning she probably won’t get a response from anyone about her account for at least two more days.

Two days which she will probably spend sitting here, on this futon, staring at her phone and wondering what in the name of heaven and hell possessed her to compliment a random stranger on his dick.

A random stranger who _still_ hasn’t responded, ten minutes in.

Rey jumps as her phone suddenly starts trilling an unfamiliar sound, and her eyes widen as she sees the flashing alert from ForceConnection across the screen asking permission to access her camera and microphone.

_Ben_Solo wants to connect._

Connect? Like _FaceTime?_ This site is sketchy enough to have a _video feature_ built in?

...oh. Oh god. She’d complimented his dick and now he’s going to expect some kind of gross webcam show.

“If I hit accept it’s just going to be some middle-aged guy with a middle-aged dick talking about how he wants to come all over my freckles,” she says to Beebee, who has rolled over and fallen asleep _just_ when she needs someone to talk to who isn’t a pornbot or its weird paramour.

“...you already hit accept, I’m not middle-aged, and I think I’d like to take you to dinner first.”

Rey freezes as a deep, masculine voice sounds through the tinny speaker of her phone. And there, on the screen, is a…

Blank wall?

“There’s a piece of paper over my webcam,” the voice says, and it’s a rich, deep baritone, the kind she could picture in a fancy cigar lounge, sitting in leather upholstery she could never hope to afford. “Don’t worry, all I see on your end is a Christmas tree and what looks like a very fat cat.”

Beebee huffs in her sleep, and Rey glances down at the angle of her phone, pointed well away from her face. _Thank god for small favors._ “I… hi. Hello.”

“Hi,” the voice says. “I think I owe you an apology, and I... didn’t want it to just be via text. I have to say, I’m surprised you answered.”

“I didn’t mean to, obviously. I must have bumped it.”

“Maybe that’s what the site name really means. _ForceConnection_. You’ll meet people whether you like it or not.”

Rey stifles a short laugh at that, schooling her features into something approaching nonchalance — not that he can see it. “I should probably apologize, too, for what I…” She hesitates. “I was just kidding, honestly, I didn’t mean to compliment your…”

_Smooth, Rey._ She grimaces.

“I didn’t mean to see anything,” she continues in a rush. “I was just curious when I saw that whoever had taken my pictures was actually talking to someone. And then it was just… _there_.”

“Yeah,” the voice says with a humorless laugh. “I remember.”

“If you _knew_ it was a scam, though, why did you…”

“I was sleep-deprived,” the voice says abruptly, followed by a long sigh. “And, if I’m being honest, halfway into a bottle of scotch when I should have been editing articles. Not the first poor decision I’ve made. It’s kind of been a trend these last few years.” He sighs again. “I’m sorry. About the picture, for asking about your… I didn’t mean to impugn your honor. I didn’t know. Really.”

Rey barely stifles a laugh at that. “‘Impugn my honor’? You really _are_ a doctoral student, aren’t you?”

“I am. Which you’d, of course, know if you looked back through all of my messages with SexyKira — ugh, saying that out loud. These are your life choices, Ben.”

He sounds so matter-of-fact in his exasperation that it’s almost oddly endearing in a way, and maybe it’s because it’s past ten o’clock on a Friday a week before Christmas and maybe it’s because all the rules seem suspended in this weird liminal space between them or maybe she’s just tired of being so damn _lonely_ all the time…

“...I meant it,” she says shyly.

The other end of the connection goes deathly silent.

“I mean…” Rey starts, flushing crimson, “from an aesthetic standpoint, none of them are really… _appealing_ or anything, but, you. Um. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Just in case you were.”

The voice — Ben — is quiet for another long moment.

Then:

“...thank you. I… you…”

He’s _stammering_.

She’s suddenly struck with a desire to see his face.

Mostly because there’s a strange, affectionate warmth starting to blossom in Rey’s chest for this awkward, lonely man, and some awful part of her wants him to be some bookish grad student with glasses who looks barely old enough to shave so she can go back to feeling awkward and mortified about liking his dick.

“...can I see you?” Rey asks quietly, and she can _hear_ the strangled cough on the other end of the line.

“You want to see my…”

“...no, not that!” She waves her hands frantically. “Just… you. To have a face to the name. To the…”

“Do you really think I’m going to show you my face when you’ve seen my cock?”

“You’ve seen me in a bikini!”

“Like _that’s_ the same!”

“You asked me about my _pussy_.”

“I didn’t know you were a real person! Let alone the girl who…” He trails off, and she can almost hear him blushing.

He doesn’t speak for a long moment.

Then, the blank wall starts to tilt and shake.

The paper is lifted away from his webcam.

And all she can see is dark, flowing hair framing a long, angular face, plush red lips surrounded by a scruff of beard, and dark, intense eyes that seem to spear her through even on the small screen of her phone.

He’s blushing.

And, much to her embarrassment and dismay…

He’s _hot._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I honestly don't know what to say to lead off this one. There's a part of me that's very genuinely terrified by the absolute groundswell of this support this fic has received, but a much bigger part is just beyond flattered and thrilled that so many people are enjoying it! I'm slowly working my way through all of the amazing and wonderful comments you've all left, but I wanted to get Chapter 3 out first to keep with my one-chapter-a-day schedule. I promise I'm reading every single word and am grateful BEYOND words for all of the sweet comments! 
> 
> I'm going to do my best to round this out with chapters tomorrow and on Christmas, but things are a bit chaotic on my end leading up to the holiday and there may be a slight delay. But I promise this story will be continuing! 
> 
> Thank you all again so, so much for reading and commenting; I hope you enjoy this latest installment!

“I’m Ben,” he offers in that rich baritone that belies the spread of crimson across his pale cheeks, and it takes Rey a minute to remember her own name.

“...Rey,” she says, before she can remember herself and the fact that she’s supposed to be deleting her account and why is she giving this guy her real name and oh god that _voice._

“Rey,” he repeats, and it’s soft and dulcet on his tongue. “Is that short for something, Rey?”

If he keeps saying her name like that she’s going to need the towel he’d offered to SexyKira.

“...not that I’m aware of,” she manages, and how high had she pushed the heat earlier? “I was…” And she tries to hold it back, this random stranger doesn’t need her life story, but then it’s all tumbling out despite herself. “...I was left at a firehouse on the south side of Jakku when I was three months old. That’s what was written on the note they found with me.”

A faint V appears between Ben’s dark brows. “So you’re basically a Dickensian orphan?”

She winces a little at that, and Ben frowns. “Sorry. Bad joke.”

“It’s okay,” Rey says quietly. “It wasn’t quite so glamorous. I grew up in the foster care system on Jakku, getting bounced around with my friend Finn. He’s been my rock for years.”

“He?” It pitches upwards, just a hint, and there’s a faint cloud of disappointment on Ben’s features before he schools them into careful indifference.

“Oh, no, nothing like that!” Rey insists, feeling a blush rise to her cheeks. “He’s happily married. Emphasis on the _happily_. He and his wife are like… Instagram perfect. It’d be annoying if they weren’t so damn good together. They rent a house in Coruscant near Rose — that’s Finn’s wife— ‘s family.”

“Coruscant.” Ben repeats the name, and his lips purse thoughtfully.

Rey shifts uncomfortably in her seat at the sight of it.

He’s a slightly awkward-looking doctoral student who spends his evenings talking to pornbots.

How is everything he does so…

“Small world,” he says finally, and there’s a hint of a smile across his seemingly-stoic features.

It takes the words a minute to register, and Rey pales when they do.

“...you’re from Coruscant?” Because oh god of _course_ he and those lips and that voice would have to be close by and conceivably touchable if she _just.._.

She wonders what Toronto is like this time of year.

Ben’s smile widens just a fraction. “I’m from Chandrila, but I live in Coruscant.” He presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, thinking for a moment. “I’m finishing up my doctorate at the university. Online, mostly.”

Rey nods absently, distracted by the movement of his lips. “...oh. I never went to college.”

She frowns at Ben’s raised eyebrows. “I mean, it’s not that I didn’t want to,” she continues, a touch defensive. “I still want to someday, but the tuition was out of my price range. I work as a mechanic to pay the bills while I’m saving up.”

Ben’s eyes seem to soften, and Rey’s heart skips a beat. “Nothing wrong with that,” he murmurs. “If I didn’t come from a family of academics who strong-armed me into following their footsteps, I’m not sure I would have made it out of undergrad.”

_He has a family._ There’s a sharp pang through her chest at the realization — he’d mentioned his mother, of course, but his use of _family_ , seemingly plural, just seems to emphasize how empty her apartment is, how the lonely the holidays feel already.

“What’s your family like?” she asks, and she knows it’ll hurt but in a good way, the same bittersweet tang she gets when looking at domestic magazine spreads or Pinterest boards or Rose’s Snapchat stories during her frequent family get-togethers.

“Not very big,” Ben says in that soft, deep voice, and she wants to wrap herself up in it. “Mostly just my mother, now. My uncle and I haven’t spoken in years, and my father…” He closes his eyes, just for the space of a heartbeat, and there’s something pained in their dark depths when he opens them. “My father died three years ago.”

Rey makes a soft noise of sympathy in the back of her throat. “I’m sorry. I…” She hesitates. “I’m sure he loved you very much.”

Ben frowns deeply, and a muscle twitches underneath his left eye as his gaze sharpens and he seems to remember their circumstances. “I’m not sure why I’m telling you this,” he murmurs. “This is… I’m not used to this. I don’t talk to many people. But with you…”

Rey’s heart seems to be constricting in her chest, and she can only nod.

It’s the craziest thing that’s ever happened to her, having her e-mail hacked and her pictures used to catfish some lonely guy with sad puppy eyes and then talking to him in soft tones about her life story at near midnight and she’d seen his _dick_ before she’d ever even said two words to him…

But she still feels oddly more comfortable than she has in a long time.

Nothing about this makes sense.

“Agreed,” Ben murmurs, and Rey starts.

“...sorry. I didn’t mean to say that part out loud,” she says, and then she’s stifling a hiccup of a laugh, then another, and then it’s bubbling out of her, peals of too-loud laughter that almost sounds like she’s braying, and she can’t help it, this is all so _ridiculous._

Ben, for his part, is smiling, actually _smiling_ , and she can tell from his taciturn bearing that it’s probably a rare occurrence and tucks it away back in some warm, sentimental corner of her heart. “I’m guessing this isn’t how you usually spend your Friday nights.”

“That’s... putting it mildly.” She’s scrunching her nose with laughter, and her hair has come unbound around her shoulders, and her heart skips a beat as she glances at her phone.

Ben isn’t smiling anymore.

He’s looking at her like she hung the stars.

_LOW BATTERY. 10% battery remaining._

Rey bites back a curse, fumbling around the futon and reaching across to the slightly-scratched end table (damn it, Beebee’s only been here for three weeks and she’s already scratched everything that _isn’t_ the fancy scratching post Rey had proudly unveiled for her the day she’d taken her in) to retrieve her phone charger.

She hesitates as she moves to plug the lightning cable into her phone, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.

It’s approaching midnight.

And… it would be far, far too easy to talk to Ben for hours with her phone charging.

“Rey? Are you still there?”

Her _name_.

Damn it, he’s not playing fair.

“I’m fine,” she says quickly. “Just needed my charger. I’m at 9%.”

“Ah. Do you want to call it a night? You’ve already been more generous with your time than I’d have expected, given the…” He gestures vaguely. “...circumstances.”

Rey wavers, turning the cable over in her hand.

Taking a deep breath, she slots it into her phone.

It buzzes twice, the battery icon turning green.

“So what’s your university like?” she asks with an air of nonchalance.

She pretends her hands aren’t shaking as Ben smiles at her again, just a little.

\---

“Do you have plans for Christmas?”

It’s nearing three a.m., and Rey has her phone propped up against a book on the end table as she lies back on the futon, her hands folded over her stomach.

She shrugs in response to the question. “I’ve been invited over to Finn and Rose’s along with our friend Poe, but… I don’t know. I may skip this year.”

“Skip Christmas or skip the togetherness part?”

Rey laughs, stretching a little and suppressing a yawn. “Unless it’s somehow possible to speed up the passage of time and avoid the 25th altogether…”

“Point taken.”

“What are you up to on Christmas?” Rey rolls onto her stomach, propping her chin up in her hands, and it feels so silly, like she’s some dreamy-eyed teenager talking to her crush, but they’re well-past the point of ridiculousness at this point. “Something with your mother?”

Ben sighs. He’d been wearing a black zip-up hoodie but had discarded it at some point throughout the night, leaving him in a too-tight black T-shirt that seems to be straining against his pecs.

It’s distracting.

_All_ of him is distracting.

She’d had a vain hope that maybe he’d be shorter than her and she could use that as a desperate mark against him.

Nope. Six-foot-three if he was an inch, and he’d even stood up and given her a look at the long, _long_ expanse of him to prove it.

(She’d tried to ignore the slight bulge in his dark jeans and what she knew lay beneath.)

There was no getting around it: the man was a five-course meal, and she was starving.

“Five courses? That’d be a lot for someone your size. Have you eaten something tonight?” Ben’s voice comes through with a note of concern, and Rey flushes again.

_Gotta stop talking out loud, Rey._ “Uh… yeah,” she lies, glancing to the kitchenette and the leftover pasta currently congealing in her secondhand fridge, the mustard yellow one that didn’t match the neutral earth tones of the rest of her apartment (but it came free with the place, so who cares?). “Pasta.”

Ben nods, crossing his thick arms across his broad chest. “We don’t do five courses on Christmas, but close. My mother used to be a state senator and brings all of her old political connections over for turkey and too many glasses of wine. But when I was a kid we had the classic Courier and Ives kind of Christmas.”

“...I don’t know who that is.”

“Classic Christmas postcard stuff. Popcorn garlands and a tree too big for the house and presents and people caroling and shit like that.”  

Rey closes her eyes, picturing a large, well-appointed house with a towering, two-story… no, _three-_ story Christmas tree strung with beautiful lights and a mix of expensive ornaments and treasured keepsake hand-me-downs, a roaring fire, family portraits on the mantle and hung throughout the house, pearly-white smiles and tidy sweaters…

“I hated it.”

Rey’s eyes open, her brow furrowing in confusion. “How could you hate it? That sounds like a dream.”

Ben leans back in his chair, drumming his fingers against his forearms. “My parents… didn’t get along,” he murmurs, seemingly half to himself. “Christmas was the one day they’d put aside their differences and pretend we were one big happy family, ostensibly for my sake. But it never quite worked. They resented each other. And they resented having a difficult…”

He stops, glancing up at Rey and pursing his lips. “...nevermind. Anyway. It’s late. We should probably call it a night.”

Rey frowns, a swell of disappointment rising up in her chest despite herself. “...okay. I guess we should get some sleep.”

“Thanks again for being so understanding about…” Ben gestures. “All of this. I apologize for getting you tangled up in it.”

“I mean…” Rey shrugs, “you’re not the one who stole my e-mail address.”

Ben is quiet for a long moment, doing that _thing_ with his tongue and his cheek and it’s only been a few hours but she feels like she’s run a marathon with the way this man makes her heart pound.

“I’m a monster,” she hears him say quietly to himself, and Rey’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Why on earth would you say something like that?”

Ben stares at her, dark eyes and dark features and it strikes her how _intense_ this man is, in a way that shoots straight through her chest and down to her panties.

“Because there’s a part of me that isn’t sorry it happened,” he says after a beat. His eyes never waver from hers, and Rey isn’t sure she’s still breathing.

“The part of you that sent that photo?” she asks, and she hates how breathless her voice sounds but she’s tired and made bold by it.

Ben flushes, even as his gaze grows darker, his pupils blown wide, and good god she’ll be lucky to make it to Christmas without this man being the death of her.

“Good night, Rey,” he says, that same soft, smooth baritone.

The connection ends, and she’s left with the too-bright screen of ForceConnection’s messages widget and a notification that her phone is charged.

_Ben_Solo is offline,_ the screen says.

It’s nearly four in the morning, and she’s half-asleep and frustrated and confused and it’s all too crazy for words but…

Before Rey can second-guess herself, she taps on the messages screen.

Types in seven digits.

Hits send.

_Just in case something happens to SexyKira,_ she writes, _and you want to take your chances with NotSoSexyRey._

She exits out of the site before the words register and the full weight of just what she’s done can hit her.

\---

_She’s dreaming._

_That much is obvious from her surroundings: the Christmas house of her dreams, and it looks much too similar to the McAllister mansion from the Home Alone_ _movies, the closest thing she’s ever seen to a nice house with a Christmas tree in it._

_But there’s no family running around, no thieves, no precocious Macaulay Culkin being a delightful scamp._

_Instead, she finds herself in front of a roaring fire, draped in silk, warm arms wrapped around her from behind._

_“Merry Christmas,” she hears rumble against the back of her neck, a strangely familiar deep voice, followed by a pair of warm lips._

_She gasps at the feel of a thick hardness pressed against her backside, and suddenly there’s a mirror beside the fireplace (it doesn’t make sense spatially but it’s a dream, she knows that much, dreams don’t have to make sense)._

_Her eyes widen at the sight of Ben, shirtless and barefoot and clad only in a pair of tight jeans, herself in a too-big red silk pajama shirt (his? She’s dizzy at the thought of it), his arms tight around her middle. He’s nipping at the side of her neck as he keeps her steady with one arm, as the other slips beneath her pajama shirt, gently nudging aside her panties and slipping through her damp folds with questing fingers._

_“Sopping,” he murmurs against her skin, and she keens as he slides one thick finger deep into her cunt, followed by another, and another, until she’s weak-kneed and leaning against him for dear life._

_“Can Kira handle this?” he asks in a deep, rough voice, and somehow he brings her hand back flush against the front of his jeans, her palm cupping the thick ridge of his cock straining against his fly. “Mm,” he murmurs in approval, rolling his hips against her hand. “No, I bet she can’t.”_

_She frowns, but then his thumb is rubbing her clit in tight, quick circles and she nearly collapses._

_“But Rey can,” he says in a hot whisper against her neck._

_\---_

Rey wakes half-draped over the futon, her hair in her mouth and one hand shoved between her legs.

She grimaces and spits her hair out, rolling onto her side and abashedly tucking her hand into the waistband of her pajama pants.

Her phone screen is flashing something at her, and she recognizes the tell-tale banner of iMessage.

Heart pounding, she quickly holds her phone up close to her face.

Only to feel her heart sink at the pleasant “good morning!” from Rose, followed by a cheery reminder about the Christmas Eve potluck at Paige’s house that she’s totally welcome to attend and don’t worry about bringing anything other than herself *smile emoji*

She has other messages, and she quickly thumbs through them.

Two from Finn asking her opinion on his Christmas gift for Rose.

_Twelve_ from Poe, who apparently had a drunken night and fight with his boyfriend and tells her in detail every unforgivable thing he’d said (followed by a much later text indicating that all was forgiven and they’d fucked their way out of it).

One from her service provider about the amount of data she’s been using (she flushes, imagining how many gigs she’d torn through chatting with Ben the night before — thank god for unlimited).

And one from an unknown number, Coruscant area code, sent thirty minutes earlier:

_If EntirelyTooSexyRey is willing to take her chances with me._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me for the holiday-induced delay! I had some family drama and had to weather my own Christmas before I could get back to Rey and Ben figuring out their holidays. I dearly hope the chapter is worth the wait! 
> 
> Thank you all again for the amazing response this fic has received; every single comment makes my day, and I'm just beyond overwhelmed and ecstatic that people are enjoying this little trope-filled slice of holiday fun so much!

Rey doesn’t text him back for six hours.

Partly because she’s busy — check that, _makes_ herself busy so she’ll stop looking at her phone every five minutes and wondering if (when?) he’ll text her again.

So she cleans every surface in her tiny apartment, does two loads of laundry, scrubs the bathroom, reorganizes the fridge, and spends a half hour of vigorous playtime with Beebee and the catnip toy shaped like a little astronaut that was supposed to be a Christmas gift from Poe for “his baby” but it’s not like cats are super-observant about the holidays, okay?

The winter sun is dipping low behind the nearby brownstones by the time she thumps heavily onto the futon, flipping on some Netflix comedy she’s never heard of and cradling her phone in her hand as she worries her lip between her teeth and stares at the still-blank screen.

Without thinking, she navigates to ForceConnection, inputs her changed password, and confirms her identity via the two-factor authentication text.

SexyKira69 greets her in all her fake, still-active glory, with six message notifications that make Rey’s heart turn over pleasantly in her chest…

...only for it to sink when she taps on the screen and is greeted by six different penises, each more unpleasant than the last. It’s irritating, almost a personal affront that these penises would dare to cloud the same messages screen that had seen Ben_Solo’s dick. These penises are tragedies. _These_ penises aren’t fit to tent Ben_Solo’s boxers.

...it’s been a weird twenty-four hours.

Grimacing, Rey deletes the messages and checks her conversation with Ben.

_Ben_Solo is offline,_ it still reads, and the icon next to his name is grayed out.

When she clicks over to his profile, she’s greeted by a blank page and the words _user not found._

...well.

Ball in her court then.

Rey sighs and slaps a pillow over her face, letting her phone drop to the futon as she mulls over a response.

_I think you’re worth taking a chance on,_ she tries.

Awful. Trite.

_You really think I’m sexy?_

Ugh. Even worse. She’ll sound like an insecure wide-eyed teenager who’s never even _seen_ a dick before.

_I dreamed that you fucked me and I woke up horny and annoyed and I’m not sure how I feel about that even though dream!me was_ **_very_ ** _on-board with it._

...honest, at least, but perhaps a bit _too_ to the point.

Stifling a groan, Rey flings aside the pillow and reaches for her phone again, thumbing through her messages to find the mystery number.

Before she can think too hard on it, she quickly taps out the first thing that comes to mind.

_We can take our chances together,_ she says.

She hits “send”.

And waits.

And waits.

It takes only a few minutes for her phone to ring.

Rey smiles in spite of herself and answers.

“Hi, Ben,” she says nonchalantly.  

\---

“What are you doing tonight?”

Rey shrugs and shovels in another mouthful of sesame chicken as she sits cross-legged on the futon, Alistair Sim scowling his way through _A Christmas Carol_ in the background. “Same thing I do every Christmas Eve: Chinese,” she says, “and Christmas movies on AMC since I managed to pay the cable bill this month.”

Ben nods on the small screen of her phone (FaceTime proper now, ever since she gave him her number, and she’s still not sure if she’s crazy or if this whole thing is crazy but they’ve talked every single day for the past week and she doesn’t quite regret it yet). “Skipped out on your friends after all?” he asks.

Rey takes a long draught from the bottle of Coke on the coffee table before digging back in with her chopsticks. “Finn and Rose invited me to their place for her family get-together, but… I don’t know.”

“You don’t feel welcome?”

Rey sighs. “It’s not like that, not really. Rose and Paige are fantastic, they’ll take in anyone who doesn’t have a place to go, but…”

She frowns, going quiet.

Ben waits patiently, the way he always does, and she thinks, unbidden, that she could maybe almost love him for it, in time.

“Christmas is for family,” she says softly. “And… I just have me. I’ve…” She hesitates, and it’s raw and painful, even after all these years. “I’ve always been alone.”

It hangs suspended between them, soft and lonely, and there’s something sad in the dark depths of Ben’s eyes.

“...you’re not alone,” he says, voice a husky rumble.

It would sound trite coming from anyone else, but Ben’s voice is so utterly sincere that Rey feels tears prick the corners of her eyes, and she swallows hard around the sudden lump in her throat.

“Neither are you,” she says softly, and she’s struck with the sudden desire to reach out and _touch_ him, take his hands in hers, press her forehead to the hollow of his throat, feel him beneath her fingertips and in her heart.

There’s a flash of something across his face, open and yearning, and they stare at each other for a long, heavy moment, not speaking, and it’s a cold, quiet Christmas Eve but it feels just a little warmer, a little less lonely here in this digital space they’ve carved out together.

“Are you with your family?” she asks quietly, and Ben stares at her for the space of another heartbeat before nodding.

“I’m in the spare room at my mother’s,” he says. “I’m not in a big hurry to mingle with her political cronies over spinach dip and cheap wine.”

“Cheap wine? Your mother?” Rey manages a short laugh around the lump in her throat, a small smile tilting at the corners of her lips. Ben doesn’t talk about his family often, but from what little he’s told her of his mother — apparently a tiny spitfire heiress to a political dynasty — Rey has imagined her subsisting solely on champagne and cigars.

Ben crooks a smile back at her, and it’s almost frightening, how much she finds herself living for his smiles. “It’s a practical thing,” he says. “Break out the good stuff and everyone’s suddenly way too conscious of how much they’re drinking. A few bottles of Yellow Tail and Barefoot Moscato, suddenly everyone’s a lot more generous with their pours and their inhibitions. If nothing else, it keeps the night interesting. As interesting as political types get, anyway.”

“And you’re avoiding it like the plague.”

“You know me too well.”

Rey manages a weak smile against the sudden swell of unease in her chest.

_Know me too well._

She definitely knows him better now than she had when he was just… well, a disembodied dick on ForceConnection.

She’s spent the last week racing home from work at the shop to spend her evenings FaceTiming him while she makes dinner.

Ben, a consummate night owl, has shifted his academic work schedule to match up with her shop hours so they’re awake at roughly the same time and spend anywhere from two to four hours a day just… talking. Not SexyKira talking, but something substantive, something…

Something that could be real, if she lets it.

Ben had deleted his profile on ForceConnection (he’d almost played it off as a joke, when she’d asked about it that first day that she’d given him her number, but Rey was worldly enough to know what it meant when a guy deleted his dating site profile). SexyKira had been deleted without fanfare by an automated system, while Customer Service Representative Dopheld from ForceConnection had sent her an e-mail full of apologies (and blissfully devoid of penises).

Ben knows about Rey’s loneliness in the nights, her recurring dreams of the ocean, her love of cilantro, the fact that she owns more steel-toed boots than high heels.

Rey, for her part, has gleaned a bit more about Ben’s family (she’d guiltily Googled him in incognito mode one night and was disappointed when nothing came up except sketchy background check websites and WhitePages), and he’s told her about his wild undergrad days, his old band (and the embarrassing nickname he’d had while he was on bass), and his secret love of old war movies.

So she knows him, on some level.

But…

Part of her is still afraid to.

Even as much as she wants to.

“Are you drinking scotch, I’m guessing?” Rey says, forcing herself to keep her voice level.

Ben wordlessly holds up a tumbler of dark amber liquid, ice cubes clinking gently against the glass, and Rey rolls her eyes with a smile. “You’re such an old man.”

“Guilty as charged. You should try it.”

“Ugh, no thanks.”

Ben hesitates for a moment, placing the glass down next to his laptop.

Then:

“It’s fifteen-year-old scotch. For the holidays. If you… you don’t have to, so please don’t take this as… if you wanted to, you could. Have some. I’d share.”

Rey blinks, uncomprehending for a moment until his inelegant words register.

“Are you,” she says slowly, “asking me over?”

Ben curses under his breath, running a hand through his dark hair, and she finds herself, not for the first time, badly wanting to touch it. “Yes,” he says.

“No,” he amends, then curses again. “Look… it’s Christmas Eve. Christmas Eve is for… people, friends, gatherings, stuff like that. And I know you don’t…” He looks lost, and Rey’s fingers burn with the need to touch, to comfort. “You’d be welcome here, but you don’t have to. Come.”

It’s innocuous, but the thought of him saying the word in another context, perhaps in a low, rough command, has Rey squirming awkwardly and trying not to choke around a piece of sesame chicken.

Her phone pings, and she sees a text from Ben with an address in a too-fancy part of Coruscant. “But you should at least re-consider going to see your friends,” he says, and it’s that gently admonishing voice he uses when he sees her eating ramen noodles for dinner, concerned yet teasing. “I’m sure they’d be really happy to see you.”

Rey frowns a little to herself, spearing a piece of chicken with her chopsticks as Jacob Marley rattles his chains and gives Scrooge what-for. “Maybe,” she murmurs.

Ben gives her his soft smile, the one that she likes to imagine is only for her, the one that lingers in her mind’s eye when she drifts off to sleep. He glances over his shoulder, and his smile falls. “I’m being called into battle,” he says, voice dismayed. “I…” He hesitates, then downs the contents of his scotch in one long draught.

“Merry Christmas, Rey,” he says in a rough, shaky voice.

He hesitates again, as if struggling to say something, before shaking his head.

The connection ends without fanfare, leaving Rey once again alone in her apartment.

Her heart is pounding in her chest as she takes her phone in hand — it’s hot from charging, hotter than the cooling sesame chicken spread out across the coffee table.

_What were you going to say, just then?_ she wonders to Ben’s absent form. _What were you going to tell me before you ran away?_

_You’re not alone_. That deep, silky baritone, thick with emotion, and she could have sworn she’d almost seen tears in his eyes.

_You and I,_ Rey murmurs to herself. _So lonely, but at least we’re lonely together._

Christmas Eve had always been one of the loneliest days on the calendar, and there’s a strange measure of bitter comfort in imagining Ben surrounded by people at his mother’s, every bit as lonely and lost as she’s always felt surrounded by the Tico clan.

Well, she thinks with a humorless smile, thumbing through her contacts list, they might as well be a matched set.

She taps the second number in her favorites list and tucks her phone into the cradle of her cheek and shoulder.

It picks up on the third ring.

“Rey!” Finn’s delighted voice sounds from the other end. “Oh man, it’s so great to hear from you. We were just talking about you — all good things, promise! Paige was just about to let the kids open one present before sending them to bed. She outdid herself with the cookies this year; I think I’ve already gained five pounds...”

“That’s great, Finn,” Rey interrupts with an affectionate smile. “But, um…”

She glances at the TV, at the Ghost of Christmas Past, at the cold sesame chicken.

“I wanted to ask you about tonight,” she says.

\---

Rey curses and smacks the driver’s side vent of the Falcon with her palm, willing it to kick out more heat in the frigid December night as she navigates past a seemingly-endless row of neatly-manicured lawns and professionally-strung Christmas lights.

There’s a hastily-wrapped box buckled into the passenger seat that jolts as she hits a pothole, and she curses again and goes back to skimming the numbers on the beautifully-appointed homes in the well-heeled subdivision she and the Falcon had clunked their way into ten minutes earlier.

_417… 419… 421._

The Falcon groans in protest as Rey kicks into reverse and parallel parks into a small space on the street, right between two giant SUVs that seem to be nearly the width of the street. The house sits at the top of a sloping lawn, surrounded by bristling pine trees and bare oaks strung with festive lights, a light-up snowman parked cheerily at the end of the wide driveway.

Rey reaches over to the passenger side and grabs the box (wrapped awkwardly in birthday paper, the only roll the “we’re closing in five minutes, lady” gift shop had had in stock) in her shaking hands before getting out of the car, not bothering to lock the Falcon behind her (the locks don't work, but frankly no one has ever tried to steal her, especially not in the suburbs).

The night is crisp and cold, and the stars are vividly bright overhead in a way they never are in the city. Rey cradles the box in her arms and stares up at them for a long moment, at the band of Orion’s belt, at the bright cluster of Pleiades, at Sirius shining bright against the inky-black sky in a way that makes the night feel more like Christmas than it has in years.

Her lower lip trembles at the thought, and Rey swallows hard, clutching the box tight to her chest as she makes her way up the neatly-paved front walk, her heart beating faster at the sound of laughter and warmth coming from inside the house.

Taking a deep breath, she hoists the box in one arm as she presses the doorbell with her finger.

There’s no answer for a long moment.

Then, there’s a scuttling of nails on hardwood floor, the delighted basso bark of a very large dog, and the door opens.

Rey’s heart is pounding fit to burst at the sight of the tiny woman in the doorway, her hair intricately braided, clad in a perfectly-pressed pantsuit, a glass of red wine in one manicured hand.

“Well fuck me, Virginia,” the woman says with a slow, easy smile. “There really is a Kira." 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies again for the delay! The new year has proven to be a bit chaotic, but I haven't forgotten this fic! Thank you all so much for the amazing comments and for staying with Ben and Rey through the holidays, even after we're all starting to take our decorations down. They still have a lot of story to get through, but first: the fluff!

“I…” Rey starts awkwardly, hefting the box in her arms, “I’m sorry for stopping by unannounced, but…”

The woman — and it must be Ben’s mother, she’s just so _tiny_ — waves away her protests with her free hand. “Please, I’m just glad that Ben got off his ass long enough to invite you. I’ve only been telling him for the last week to get you over here so I could finally meet his girl.”

“His…” Rey pales at the word (even if she has thought it to herself in fleeting moments over the last few days… but as a distant thing, maybe off in the future…).

“Girlfriend, hookup, old lady, whatever you kids are calling it. Lando, get Chewie back in his crate and take this wine!” the woman — Leia, he’d said his mother’s name was Leia — yells behind her, handing her glass of wine backwards and taking Rey’s hands in her own, warm and soft with age. Her eyes are bright with too much wine and a spark of mischief and delight, and Rey manages a smile in spite of herself. “Let’s have a look at you. Ahh, there are those freckles Ben keeps going on about. Cute as a button.”

Leia crooks a grin as Rey’s cheeks flush, and it’s so much like her son’s smile that Rey’s heart turns over in her chest. “Hmm… on the young side, aren’t you?” She raises an appraising eyebrow. “How old? Legal, right? I don’t have to kick my son’s ass?”

“Um…” Rey flushes deeper. How much had Ben told her about ‘Kira’? “I’m twenty,” she says. “Twenty-one next month.”

Leia purses her lips and unclasps one of Rey’s hands, ticking numbers off on her fingers. “Hm. A little under nine years. About the same as Ben’s father and me.”

Leia’s smile fades for a moment before she recovers and pats Rey’s hand gently. “He takes after his father so much, that boy,” she says, her eyes soft and sad. “As much as he wishes he didn’t.”

Rey can only nod mutely, her hands still held in an awkward grip by this tiny tornado of a woman who seems to suddenly remember herself and glances between Rey and the living room behind her. “Ah, but don’t stand here on the porch catching your death of cold! Come on in and meet some people. Ben’s upstairs being his usual sociable self, but I’m sure he’ll come running down as soon as he realizes...”

Leia’s words fade into the lilting Christmas music filling the air, and Rey’s eyes widen as she’s pulled into the front entryway, her heart catching in her throat at the beautiful holiday tableau in front of her. Here, the tallest Christmas tree she’s ever seen, white spruce strung with lights and garland, festooned with beautiful ornaments and towering beside a curving staircase; there, a roaring fire in an oversized fireplace, stockings hung neatly-spaced across the mantle, firelight reflecting against the wine-colored leather couches occupied by a number of laughing, well-heeled and wine-drunk people in tailored suits and sparkling dresses.

Rey clutches the box and its rainbow-colored Happy Birthday wrapping paper more tightly to her chest, shifting her weight awkwardly between her beat-up Converse and wishing she’d thought to change into something fancier than faded jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt (one of the only ones she had without grease stains).

...not that she had anything fancier. She swallows hard as Leia flits among her guests, allowing a hand kiss here, a dainty hug there, and the air is thick with pine and cinnamon, the warm glow of the fire warming her cold-chapped hands...

“...Rey?”

That soft, smooth baritone coming from the top of the stairs, and Rey slowly looks up to see Ben.

_Ben_.

All six feet plus of him, clad in dark jeans and a dark, fitted sweater, his hair neatly combed back, and even from her place at the bottom of the stairs she can see the flush rising to his freshly-shaven cheeks.

There’s a brightness in his eyes even as he wraps one hand around the banister (and god, his _hands,_ had she not noticed how big his hands are?), and everything smells like snow and spruce and _hope_ as he slowly makes his way down the stairs, eyes never leaving hers.

Rey clutches the box to her chest so hard that she can hear the wrapping paper crinkle, can feel the cardboard catch and dent beneath her fingers.

He’s real.

Somehow, after everything.

He’s real.

He’s here.

And… just for now, just for tonight…

“Ben!” Leia calls in surprise from where she stands near the fireplace, and her smile lights up the room. “Come introduce your girlfriend to everyone.”

Ben finally descends the last step and stands in the entryway, less than ten feet away from Rey, and he still hasn’t stopped staring at her.

He’s even bigger than she could have imagined, tall and broad in a way that FaceTime could never have prepared her for, and his hair looks even softer, silkier, combed back into shiny black waves that Rey didn’t think she could coax her own hair into even with the most expensive products Sephora had to offer (she momentarily wonders if that coupon is still valid, she’s suddenly tempted to _try_ ).

He’s beautiful, even as he glances towards his mother and then to Rey with a wincing apology clear across his features. “Sorry,” he says, _sotto voce_. “I… may have forgotten to tell her about… everything.” He turns slightly, just enough to block his mother from view. “Just for tonight?”

He holds his hand out to her, a pleading question in his eyes.

Rey can feel the slow spread of a smile across her face, because it’s Christmas Eve and Ben is close enough to touch and he smells like expensive aftershave and just for tonight…

He’s here.

He’s real.

And just for tonight… he’s _hers_.

Wordlessly, she slips her shaking hand into his.

\---

It doesn’t take long before Leia has dismissed her guests and it’s just the three of them, a roaring fire, and Nat King Cole crooning in the background.

“So… is it Rey or Kira?” Leia purses her lips in disapproval as Ben pours a glass of pink moscato at the bar.

“Oh, both,” he says absently before Rey can answer, topping off the glass. “But it’s ‘Rey’ I’ve gotten tattooed on my ass, so you may want to stick with that for now.”

“Ben!” she says sharply as he hands the glass to Rey.

“Just the outline so far,” he deadpans. “The fill will have to wait until after the new year.”

“Smartass.” Leia narrows her eyes at him before cocking her head at Rey. “She’s not twenty-one yet.”

Rey smiles to herself as she tips the glass back, feeling the sweetness of the wine and the burst of bubbles on her tongue. “I think one glass will be fine,” Rey says, swallowing. “It’s not like I’ve never had a drink before. I’ve actually had _this_ drink before. ‘The sorority special,’ Rose calls it.”

Ben crooks a grin at her from the bar, and her smile widens. “I still have that scotch upstairs if you’d like some. Or does Rose have a nickname for that, too?”

_Rose._ Rey glances guiltily to her battered purse at her feet, to her absent phone.

Finn had been dubious when she’d shared her plans for the night, and Rose wasn’t much better when he’d put his phone on speaker.

“So let me get this straight,” he’d said, incredulous around a mouth full of cookie crumbs. “You met this guy online. Only he didn’t meet you, _he_ met some pornbot scam and got all warm and fuzzy for it. And you’ve been talking to him. And you’re going to spend Christmas Eve. With his _mom_.”

“Well, when you put it that way…”

“Just text us when you get there safely!” Rose had called from the background. “And when you get home! And don’t drink too much!”

“And give us this guy’s name and address, so we can look him up and make sure he checks out.”

“I already Googled him,” Rey had groused, even as she texted Ben’s name and his mother’s address to Finn, “but if it’ll make you feel better...”

“Just…” Finn had paused. “Be careful, Rey. People aren’t always what they seem online.”

“...Rey? You okay?”

Rey shakes her head, downing the remaining contents of her glass. “Yeah,” she says, smiling weakly at Ben’s look of concern. “Just… thinking of my friends.”

Ben nods, pouring a glass of white wine and shrugging as his mother waves it away. “Do you want to head over that way?” he asks, taking a long swig from the glass.

Leia narrows her eyes and stands up from the couch long enough to slap Ben hard on the chest. “You’re trying to send your girlfriend home?” she seethes. “It’s near midnight, she’s been drinking…”

“I had one…” Rey offers lamely, falling silent at Leia’s sharp glare.

“This house has _four_ bedrooms, Ben, with only one of them currently being used, by _you_ …”

“One?” Rey furrows her brow in confusion. “But isn’t this your…”

“...and I’m not asking what the two of you do, it’s none of my business, and frankly I don’t _want_ to know…”

“Mom…” Ben rolls his eyes in mute supplication to the heavens.

“But how have you not gotten this girl a drawer? A toothbrush, an overnight bag? _Something?_ It’s not like you can go to her place,” Leia says meaningfully, leaning back on the couch.

Rey raises an eyebrow at Ben, frowning deeply as he avoids her questioning stare. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I… I’m new at this boyfriend stuff.”

He sounds so utterly lost and chastised that Rey rises and takes his hand between both of hers, squeezing gently. “You’re doing great,” she says quietly. “We’re both trying to figure it out.”

Rey feels Leia’s eyes on her, feels the woman’s gaze softening as she takes in the scene in front of her. “...well,” she says after a moment, “I’d better be going.”

Rey looks to her in confusion. “But, wait… if _I_ can’t drive after one glass of moscato, you shouldn’t be…”

Her eyes widen as Leia pats her cheek with a cheeky grin. “I have a driver, dear. Already called him and let him know to pick me up around midnight. And here, wait just a minute…” Leia shuffles quickly to the kitchen, cursing as she looks around for a pen.

Rey looks at Ben as Leia rummages around the kitchen. “This isn’t your mother’s house?” she asks under her breath. “This is all _yours?_ ”

Ben winces a little, shrugging helplessly. “Not… exactly. She does own it, but…”

“Here,” Leia interrupts bluntly, folding a piece of paper into Rey’s hand. “My driver’s number, just in case you decide you need a ride home.”

“Oh. Um.” Rey awkwardly turns the paper over in her hand. “I’m really okay. And besides, Ben can always take me home in a few hours if that would make you feel better.”

Leia’s features pale, her eyes narrowing sharply at Ben. “...yes. Well,” she says, and the carefree wine-drunk woman who’d happily talked with Rey for the last two hours disappears as quickly as she’d appeared. “I’m sure Ben will talk to you about his… transportation issues, shall we say. If he hasn’t already.”

Ben suddenly stiffens, and Rey stares up at him in confusion.

_People aren’t always what they seem online, Rey._

_You know me too well..._

“Ma,” Ben says quietly, “it’s still early for that. We’ve only known each other for a few weeks.”

Leia stares at him for a long moment before nodding and turning to tug at the front of his sweater. Rey smiles to herself as Ben leans down dutifully and allows his mother to kiss his cheek. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

“Merry Christmas, ma.”

Rey starts as Leia draws her into a tight hug, kissing her on the cheek as well. “Merry Christmas, Kira. Rey. Whichever you prefer. It’s been lovely meeting you.”

“You too,” Rey says, and there’s a sudden press of tears at the corners of her eyes at the warmth of this woman, the warmth of this home, of family, of a Christmas that has always seemed so far out of grasp.

But just for tonight…

Ben rests an arm around her shoulders, and it’s so easy to lean into his embrace as Leia leaves through the front door, as she closes it quietly behind her.

As it’s suddenly just the two of them.

“...thanks,” Ben says after a moment, pulling his arm from Rey’s shoulders, “for…” He gestures to the door.

Rey smiles, self-consciously tugging at the hem of her shirt. “Thanks for not making me feel awkward about being…” She gestures around the room. “...here.”

Ben laughs, a short, sharp thing, but it’s warm. “Best Christmas Eve I’ve ever had,” he murmurs.

He hesitates before brushing a stray lock of hair out of Rey’s eyes, and her heart skips a beat as his fingertips brush her cheek.

“You mean since you were a kid?” Rey asks, and she curses inwardly at the breathless sound of her voice.

Ben crooks a grin at her, and his hand is trembling as it once again brushes against her cheek. “I mean ever.”

His gaze tips upwards to the ceiling, and he curses lightly under his breath.

Rey’s heart is pounding as she slowly looks upwards, knowing in her heart what she’s going to find, it is Christmas after all, and…

“Red berries,” Ben mumbles, canting his head towards the cathedral ceiling, where a plant sprig dangles high above the living room. “Holly. Not…”

“...mistletoe,” Rey finishes with a frown, shoving her hands into her pockets and trying to hide her disappointment.

“Well.” Ben rocks back on his heels, glancing to the box. “I guess we could always find out what I got for my birthday.”

Rey flushes, gathering up the dented box and its colorful wrapping paper. “The store was out of everything else,” she says defensively. “It was this or rinsed out Chinese takeout containers.”

“I’d be happy with anything,” Ben says. He shakes his head, staring at her. “I just…” He hesitates as Rey hands him the box. “I can’t believe you came. I can’t believe you’re here, I can’t believe…” He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You didn’t have to get me anything, you know.”

“I know,” Rey says, biting her lip as Ben makes quick work of the wrapping paper and opens the box. “But, um, I had already made this one, and I thought with all of the dark colors you wear that it would… suit you. Kind of.”

Ben’s features are inscrutable as he lifts out the soft black wool scarf, gently bunching the fabric in one large hand. “...you didn’t buy this?” he asks softly.

“Oh yes, with my very large trust fund.” Rey rolls her eyes affectionately as he drapes the scarf around his neck. “I made it. It’s a simple pattern, nothing major. And I messed up at least three rows, so it’s a little lumpy in a few places, and…”

“No one’s ever made me anything,” Ben says quietly, still squeezing the fabric. “Ever.”

Rey’s lip wobbles just a fraction, and she breaks into a watery smile. “Merry Christmas, Ben,” she whispers, reaching out to cover his hand with hers.

He closes his eyes, shaking his head, and when he opens his eyes she can see a sheen of tears in them. “...I didn’t get you anything. I’m so sorry.”

Rey bites her lip, glancing up to the ceiling.

“Yeah,” she says, winding her hands into the scarf and pulling him down to her. “You did.”

She’s breathing hard and trembling as Ben rests his forehead against hers. “...that’s not mistletoe,” he reminds her, his lips just barely brushing against hers.

“And I’m not SexyKira,” Rey says with a soft smile, curving her hand around the back of her neck and bringing him into a soft, warm kiss.

Ben stiffens beneath her hold, then Rey feels one arm come tightly around her waist, the other carding softly through her hair as Ben holds her and kisses her back.

On the mantle, above a dying fire, the clock strikes twelve.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...wow, is THIS overdue. Thank you all so much for your patience and for sticking with me and this story — it's been a rough few weeks, and your lovely comments and enthusiasm have really helped keep me (and the story) going. I have to say that I'm LOVING all of the guesses, particularly about what Ben's deal is; you'll get a glimpse into it in this chapter and learn the full story in the next chapter. Kudos to those of you who have picked up on all of the hints thus far; feel free to speculate in the comments! 
> 
> Thank you all again, and I dearly hope this one was worth the wait!

Rey would be lying if she said she hasn’t thought about what kissing Ben might be like over the past week.

Not often, not as frequently as her body has flushed with thoughts of his hands and lips across her skin in other, less sundry places — kissing him, kissing _anyone_ always seemed so much more intimate, so much closer than she’s usually willing to allow herself to get to someone else.

Even on the rare occasions where she finds herself in bed with someone — one of Poe’s friends, an ill-matched Tinder hookup, that one cute boy from work who finished in about fifteen seconds flat and fell asleep on top of her — she’s almost… repulsed by the thought of kissing them, tips her head away and lets them kiss her cheeks, her neck, her breasts… anywhere but her lips, anything but that vulnerable, soft place that _means_ something.

Without quite meaning to, Rey has found herself by and large like Julia Roberts in _Pretty Woman —_ no kissing on the mouth.

But Ben… Ben makes her weak, makes her _want_ in a way she’s struggled to give name to, and more than once her dreams have turned softer, less physical, less the raw, primal fucking her subconscious had flitted towards in the beginning and more gentle embraces and soft, lingering kisses.

Once she’d dreamed of kissing him in the rain, warm water sluicing down their bodies as she cupped his face in her hands and wound her way around him.

Another time it had been in the snow, with snowflakes clinging to her eyelashes as Ben hoisted her up in his arms like she weighed nothing and kissed her deeply, like she was something precious.

But nothing could have prepared her for the reality of kissing Ben, his soft black locks twined around her fingers, the fire crackling and popping beside them, Judy Garland trilling “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” as Ben lays her back against the rich leather upholstery of the couch, one hand warm against the small of her back, beneath the hem of her shirt, never breaking the slow, languid kisses he continues to press against her lips.

His own taste of expensive scotch and wine, and he smells of woodsmoke and aftershave, something so definitively _male_ that Rey unconsciously spreads her legs just wide enough for Ben to settle in between them, his arms warm around her shoulders as he finally breaks the kiss, breathing hard, nudging her nose with his.

“...hi,” he says, breathless and deep, his eyes dark with want and warm like dark whiskey in the firelight.

Rey’s cheeks are burning, but she can’t help but wriggle closer to him, keeping one hand tangled in his hair (soft, so _soft_ ) as she skims the other down his broad back, the hard ridges of his shoulderblades beneath his sweater.

“Hi,” she whispers back, and the smile she gives him is shy.

“I think it’s officially Christmas now.”

“Sounded like it.”

“Mm.” Ben leans down to rest his forehead against hers, and Rey’s heart hammers fit to burst. “Isn’t it a thing to get kissed at midnight on Christmas? Good luck or something?”

Rey laughs, luxuriating as Ben strokes the soft skin behind her ear. “That’s New Year’s.”

Ben shrugs, and Rey is wrapped so tightly around him that she moves with the motion. “Well,” he says, “considering how rough Christmas has been for both of us, I say we start a new tradition.”

He crooks a smile at her and leans into her hand as she curves it around his cheek, stroking her thumb across his strong cheekbone.

“I like that plan,” she says softly, and she can’t stop the smile that spreads across her face, wide enough to burst as she leans up to kiss him again.

\---

“I should text Finn and Rose,” Rey says, stifling a yawn as she snuggles closer to Ben under the soft chenille blanket he’d retrieved from the end of the couch.

Ben presses an idle kiss to her temple as he nods, his thumb stroking absently at her shoulder. “I should throw a few more logs on,” he says, eyeing the glowing fire before them. “Do you want some popcorn or something? I think there’s a bag or two of the microwave stuff in the kitchen somewhere. Probably some hot chocolate, too.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“I’ll be right back.” He hesitates for a moment before tipping Rey’s face up for a deep, lingering kiss, and Rey can feel her own shy, awkward smile reflected on his features as he stands and heads for the back porch.

Rey watches his retreating back and touches her fingertips to her lips — they’re moist and kiss-stung, pleasantly sore in a way that makes her feel slightly debauched and wild, in the best way.

And all they’ve done is _kiss._

But god, what kisses. Rey snuggles more deeply into the blanket and squirms happily, feeling for all the world like a dreamy-eyed teenage girl after her first kiss. Ben’s lips are soft and plush, made for kissing, and his touches are gentle, reverent, sensuous in a way that almost seems to speak the words she’d imagined him saying in her dreams, during FaceTime, in every lingering moment where his eyes met hers and she wondered if somehow this lonely, sad-eyed man could ever be hers.

_I see you,_ in the brush of his fingertips against the hard ridges of her spine.

_I adore you,_ in his lips stroking along the line of her jaw, down to her pulse point.

“I brought wood,” he calls as he walks back into the house, arms laden with logs, and Rey blushes down to her toes. “How are your friends?”

_Right._ Rey ducks her head, attempting to hide the crimson flush across her cheeks as she reaches for her purse and fishes around for her phone. “I’m sure they’re fine. I’m just gonna wish them a quick Merry Christmas.”

Her eyes linger on Ben’s hulking form as he kneels down and feeds the first log into the fire, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, dark hair reflecting the warm glow of firelight.

Before she can even think about it, before she can even read the messages from Finn, she’s blindly tapping out a text to him and Rose.

_Staying over for the night,_ she writes. _Merry Christmas. Love you. Don’t wait up._

Her phone rings a few seconds after she sends the text, and she quickly silences it, tucking it against her breastbone and luxuriating in the sight of Ben rearranging the logs in the fire and coaxing the flames higher.

Rey frowns as her phone rings again, and she irritably swipes to end Rose’s incoming call before placing her phone in airplane mode and tossing it back into her purse.

Ben raises an eyebrow at her. “Everything okay?” he asks, straightening and setting the fireplace poker to the side.

He sits down next to her on the couch, and Rey drapes the blanket back over him, snuggling closer and closing her eyes as Ben wraps a warm arm around her shoulders.

“Yeah,” she murmurs with a smile. “Everything’s great.”

\---

“I still can’t believe we’re here.”

Rey shovels another handful of popcorn into her mouth before passing the bowl back to Ben. “I know, right?” she says around a mouthful of kernels. “This is just… the craziest thing I ever could have imagined.”

Ben settles the bowl in his lap with one hand as he sips at the steaming mug of hot chocolate in the other. “ForceConnection.” He shakes his head on a smile. “I can’t believe I joined some sketchy dating site hoping to placate my mother and instead I got…”

“What?” Rey asks, snuggling more deeply into the blanket, her eyes bright.

He sets the mug on the end table, the bowl on the floor, and takes her hands in his. “You,” he murmurs. “I got you.”

Rey laughs, a light, self-deprecating thing, as she squeezes his hands. “I’m nobody,” she says quietly. “Not really.”

Ben draws his brows together, a dark flash of something in his eyes. “You don’t believe that, do you?”

There’s a sudden intensity to him that catches her off-guard, and Rey falters, strokes her thumbs against the backs of his hands. “I mean…” She shrugs, gestures to the rich holiday tableau around them. “I don’t… I don’t have a family. I don’t really fit in here among all of… this. I’ve never even been to college. And I just…”

Rey trails off, frowning to herself. “You’re so much,” she murmurs, and she can’t quite meet his eyes. “You’re a doctoral student with this big, beautiful house and a wonderful mother and…”

“Stop.” It’s soft but insistent, the word velvet on his tongue, and before she can realize what’s happened Rey is draped across his lap, one of his hands cradling the back of her head as he draws her in close for a lingering kiss. “You’re like a dream,” he murmurs against her lips, soft brushes with every word. “Like everything I might have wished for and never deserved. And I’m not…” He closes his eyes, pulling back a fraction, his hands tightening against her. “Rey, I’m not a good man.”

Rey shushes him, stroking the back of his neck and kissing him firmly. “You’re good for me,” she says quietly. “Don’t you pull away from me now. Don’t you…” She swallows hard against the sudden lump in her throat, clutches him tighter. “We may just have tonight, if that’s what you want,” she says after a moment. “If… if you don’t want this, if I can’t…” _If I can’t be SexyKira, if I can’t be what you want…_

Ben rests his forehead against hers. “You’re everything I want. Rey.”

Rey’s eyes widen, and she pulls back a fraction. “Did I…”

“Say that out loud?” Ben crooks a smile at her. “Yeah. You do that a lot. You’re…” He flushes as Rey shifts in his lap. “...a little loud.”

Rey can feel her own cheeks burning as she settles against the fly of his jeans, feels him hardening beneath her. “Oh?” she asks, a touch too innocently, and her breath hitches as Ben slips one hand beneath the hem of her shirt and strokes the bare skin at the base of her spine.

Ben nods mutely as Rey drags her hand down the front of his sweater, hooking one finger through the belt loop of his jeans. “...never said that was a bad thing,” he manages.

Rey swallows hard as she tugs at the denim around her finger, and she takes a deep breath before laying her palm flat against the hard ridge straining against his fly.

_This_ she had definitely dreamed of.

“...Rey,” Ben manages in a strangled voice, leaning into her touch and groaning.

“Is this okay?” she asks quietly, dragging her short fingernail along the seam. “Is it okay if I…” She hesitates, taking the zipper between thumb and forefinger.

She can feel Ben trembling beneath her as he nods, and Rey takes a deep breath before sliding down the zipper and slipping her hand into the front of his boxer shorts in search of…

_There_.

She’s not sure who’s shaking harder, him or her, as she slips his hardening cock out and holds it in a light grip. It’s big, so much bigger than even his picture could do justice to, flushed and purpling, a thick vein pulsing along the underside.

There’s a drop of pre-cum beading at the tip, and Rey tries to settle her breathing as she wraps her hand more firmly around the shaft and smears the fluid beneath her thumb.

Ben gasps and arches off the couch, into her touch, his eyes falling shut as he softly moans her name.

Rey gives him a soft smile as she tightens her fist and begins a slow, steady pumping, as Ben rolls his hips and folds his hand around hers on his cock. Her sweet, beautiful boy… how lonely has he been, that he’s so broken and open and needy for her just from a handjob?

“...faster,” he manages between short, staggered breaths, and Rey watches him with dark eyes as she pumps her hand faster.

“Under… under the head, like…” He grips her hand and strokes her thumb at a sensitive spot at the underside of the tip as they twist upwards, down, and up again…

Ben is panting something deliriously, allowing his hand to fall away and submitting to her touch, and Rey feels a giddy, filthy thrill as she realizes it’s her _name_ , a mantra, a plea, a reverent declaration of want.

His hand suddenly flies to the back of her head, tangles in her hair and pulls her close and into a deep, passionate kiss, trapping her hand and his cock between them even as she feels the warm spurt of his cum against her fingertips, soaking into the front of her shirt, and she doesn’t even _care_ , not if she can make this beautiful man say her name like that, kiss her like this, fall apart beneath her touch like this.

_...I could love you_ , Rey thinks, unbidden, her head spinning as Ben’s tongue slides along hers and his hips still rock shallowly against her hand. _I could… and maybe you could love me, somehow, and we could build something, here, together, and never have to be alone again…_

One of Ben’s legs is crooked up against the couch, jeans hiked up and rumpled, and Rey’s blood runs cold as there’s a flash of light from around his ankle.

Again.

And again.

And again.

His cum is cooling on her fingertips, and he’s pressing soft, reverent kisses to her throat.

Rey is staring at the smooth black plastic wrapped around his ankle, the steadily-blinking light, lost words echoing through her mind.

_It’s been a rough few years…_

_People aren’t always what they seem online..._

_I’m sure Ben will talk to you about his… transportation issues..._

_Not a good man…_

“Ben,” she manages, her heart clenching in her chest even as it seems to be breaking.

“I think we need to talk.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt really bad about leaving you on such an angsty cliffhanger, so this chapter is out super early! Major thanks to my friend Alexandra for letting me bend her ear and figure out Ben's backstory; I'd had it sketched out since Day 1, but her law school background was a big help in getting the particulars sorted for plausibility's sake. (If you guessed right and connected the dots, give yourself a big round of applause!)
> 
> Important note to those of you upset about how things went down last chapter: remember, in the words of Carrie Fisher, Rey is very forgiving. ;)
> 
> Unfortunately, we're winding down and should only have 2-3 more chapters after this one, but fret not! There's still a lot to come in this crazy little world of Ben and Rey, and they still have to make it to New Year's... and after. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading; enjoy the ride!

Ben stills beneath her in mid-kiss, the sleepy, sated languidness in his limbs going taut.

He slowly follows her gaze to the device strapped to his ankle, closing his eyes and resting his head back against the couch. “...fuck.”

Rey narrows her eyes, trembling with anger as she pulls away from him, roughly wiping her hand against the front of his sweater (her own shirt is damp, and she suddenly feels so _cheap)_. “I’m washing my hands and going home,” she says shortly, rising off him and making her way to the kitchen.

“Rey!” she hears from the living room, followed by a rustle of fabric, and she turns on the tap in the kitchen sink, allowing the rush of water to drown out everything: Ben’s voice, her own damning inner monologue _(stupid, so stupid, did you really think someone could love you, should have known it was too good to be true),_ the sound of her heart tearing in two.

“Rey,” Ben’s voice comes from behind her, low and abashed as she dries her hands on a nearby tea towel, and she closes her eyes, swallows hard around the lump in her throat and no, she will not cry over this man, this _liar_ who held her so close and kissed her so sweetly and made her believe that she could…

“Rey, please.” He’s removed his sweater and is clad only in a thin black undershirt, reaching toward her with one entreating hand, eyes soft and searching, and Rey presses her back against the sink protectively. “It’s not… whatever you’re thinking…”

“You’re under house arrest.” It’s blunt, snapped into the air between them like a whipcrack, and her eyes are burning. “You’re… you’re a _criminal._ ”

Ben raises his chin just a fraction, meeting her gaze levelly. “Yes,” he says flatly. “I am.”

“You…” Rey trembles with anger, gripping the counter behind her with white-knuckled hands. “You made me _trust_ you, you let me… _touch_ you…”

Her face crumples in disgust, and without blinking, without thinking she strips her cum-stained shirt off, balls it up and throws it at him, hitting him in the chest with a soft ‘thud’.

Ben’s eyes are wide, and she can just imagine the picture she makes: clad in a ten-year-old bra with worn elastic, rumpled jeans and mismatched socks, hair disheveled and lips kiss-stung, vibrating with scarcely-muted rage as the monitor around Ben’s ankle blinks sedately.

“I meant everything I said,” Ben manages.

“To me?” Rey scoffs. “To Kira?”

“To _you,_ ” Ben insists, taking a step forward and hesitating, eyes dipping to the bare expanse of her shoulders, her belly, before stepping back and sighing. “Let me get you a shirt to wear. I can’t stop you from leaving, but I don’t want you to catch your death of cold.”

Rey narrows her eyes and ducks past him, making a beeline for the living room and her coat. “Don’t do me any favors,” she says, eyes widening as Ben rushes after her and catches her wrist. “Let _go,_ ” she seethes, “or believe me, I’ll make you.”

“You wanted to talk,” Ben pleads, and there’s a familiar softness to his eyes, to his voice, and Rey’s heart turns over in her chest, a pulse of affection that breaks through the pain. “Let’s talk. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Anything. Just…” He glances to the windows, to the curling ribbon of scarlet at the horizon, the darkening of stars. “Give me until daybreak. Let me…” He takes a deep breath, stroking his thumb over the inside of her wrist. “Let me see you in the morning sun before I have to say goodbye.”

Rey stares at him for a long moment, wary and unsettled, leaning away from his touch.

She feels foolish beyond words, that she’s fallen head-over-heels for this awkward man with deep eyes and deep secrets, a house-bound criminal with who knows what sins in his past.

Foolish still that she wants to hear him out.

And more foolish yet that a part of her desperately wants there to be an explanation, an out, anything that might justify once again being held in his arms the way her broken heart is screaming for.

Rey closes her eyes, reaching to rest her fingertips against the hand grasping at her wrist.

“Okay,” she says softly.

\---

“I was twenty-three when it started,” Ben says softly, staring into the mug of hot chocolate grasped between his large hands. “Just out of undergrad.”

Rey’s own hot chocolate is untouched, cooling on the table before her. The lights are low as they sit across from each other in the kitchen, the house somehow grim and silent even in the early morning dark of Christmas.

“I didn’t really have a plan for what I was going to do,” Ben murmurs. “I had a degree in historical theology. It was either grad school or the priesthood.”

Rey scoffs and crosses her arms over the front of the dark, oversized T-shirt Ben had given her (“FIRST ORDER,” it says in jagged lettering, and he’d explained that it was from his old band, something that would have delighted some warm, mischievous part of her just hours earlier). “You? A priest?”

“Wild, right?” He manages a weak smile before taking a sip of hot chocolate. “But my uncle is ordained, and my parents thought that… maybe it would give me structure, discipline, everything that they’d found lacking as I fought my way through high school.”

“Literally, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah, literally.” Ben sighs, carding a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t sure about it, so I started in my doctoral program at the university. That’s where I met…”

He hesitates, staring at the steaming surface of his hot chocolate, and Rey can see that his hands are shaking.

“Andrew Snoke,” he finishes, closing his eyes. “Professor Emeritus of Mythology and Cultural Studies. Esteemed member of the faculty. Well-regarded in his field, widely published.”

He opens his eyes, and they’re so dark and intense that Rey pushes back in her chair a little. “And in his spare time one of the biggest drug kingpins in Coruscant. Made a fortune pushing uppers to wealthy college kids and everything else in the city underworld.”

Rey purses her lips, absently drawing figures on the table with her forefinger. “Let me guess,” she says softly. “You were one of his dealers.”

Ben laughs, short, sharp, and humorless. “Hardly. I was an enforcer. I had a good name, came from a good family, but I had the look and plenty of connections with rich undergrads with more money than sense. They’d get their coke and Adderall from one of Snoke’s pushers, and when they didn’t pay up…”

He goes quiet, head slumping back against his shoulders.

Rey swallows hard. “You’d beat them?”

Ben shakes his head. “Extort them, mostly. I targeted the kids like me from good families with trust funds, the ones who could afford to have mommy and daddy throw a few grand at a problem to make it go away. But if they didn’t…” He levels her with a flat stare. “I’m not proud of it, Rey. I’m not proud of any of it.”

Rey grimaces, taking another sip of hot chocolate. “I…” She hesitates. “I guess there’s worse things you could have done to be under house arrest than drug charges.”

Ben shakes his head again. “Drug charges are federal,” he says in a low voice, and his eyes are distant. “If I’d caught charges for that, I’d still be locked up in a federal facility somewhere. You only beat a drug rap if you pay hefty bribes, have connections, or turn state’s evidence.”

“...your mother,” Rey says slowly, realization dawning. “Your mother must have…”

“My mother was a state senator,” Ben says flatly. “Even she couldn’t get me out when they caught me.”

“...you talked, didn’t you,” she whispers.

Ben manages a weak grin. “Went undercover for six months, gathering every bit of evidence I could. Snoke trusted me, was convinced he had me fully under his thumb, especially when…”

He trails off, something pained flashing through his dark eyes, and he seems to shrink in his chair.

“Ben?” Rey says softly, and she hesitates before reaching across the table.

Ben stares at her for a long moment before reaching towards her, just barely brushing her fingertips with his. “...my father,” he manages. “He was run off the road in the middle of the night and killed in a crash. Officially it was an accident, but I knew. I knew.”

Rey’s face crumples in sympathy, and she twines her fingers lightly with Ben’s.

“It broke me,” he says quietly. “My mother suspected I was involved somehow and stopped speaking to me. My uncle gave up on me. I didn’t have a way out anymore, and so I…”

He swallows hard, rubbing his thumb over the back of Rey’s hand and falling quiet.

Rey bites her lip and fully takes his hand in hers. “I can take it,” she says. “I’m ready.”

“I was halfway into a bottle of scotch when Snoke called,” Ben says after a moment, his voice strangely distant. “Ever since my father had… I’d been drinking more and more to escape. I couldn’t handle it, knowing that if I’d never gotten involved with Snoke, he would never have…”

He closes his eyes tightly, taking a deep breath. “It was Christmas Eve. Three years ago. Snoke wanted me to go with him to a pickup. I’d gotten so good at hiding the drinking that he didn’t suspect anything. He gave me the keys to his Jag and off we went.”

He opens his eyes, meeting Rey’s for the first time since he’s started talking. “It was dark. Snowing,” he says quietly. “I was going too fast and I didn’t care. All I could think was… how much I hated Snoke for getting me into this, how much I hated _myself_ for everything I’d done, for breaking my family apart, for causing myself and everyone who came near me so much pain.”

His hand grips hers tightly, too tightly, and Rey winces.

“When we spun out on a patch of ice,” Ben says, “I accelerated. I saw the semi coming, and I didn’t care. I wanted Snoke gone for what he’d done. I wanted _myself_ gone.”

Rey’s breath is tight in her chest, and she draws her free hand to her mouth. “Oh my god, Ben.”

His grip softens on her hand as he glances at her face, his eyes soft and sad. “There was almost nothing left of the car afterwards. It was almost like… the universe righting itself, doling out payment for what happened with my father,” he murmurs. “In the end… I survived. Snoke didn’t.”

He sighs, releasing his grip and setting his head in his hands, staring down at the table. “I was in the hospital for three months. The first face I saw when I woke up was my mother. I don’t know who was crying harder, me or her.”

Rey’s trying not to cry herself, biting hard at the inside of her cheek.

“The investigation showed clear fault — I’d been drinking, and it was clear as day it wasn’t entirely an accident. By all rights, I should have done hard time,” Ben says softly. “But my mother… she understood. Why I had…”

He shakes his head. “It must have cost her every bit of influence she had, but she got it reduced to a DUI and vehicular manslaughter in front of a judge she knew, Lando Calrissian. Old friend of my mother’s and father’s.” He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “They sentenced me to three years’ probation and house arrest. Officially, I had a lot of goodwill for having cooperated and helped break up Snoke’s operations in Coruscant. Unofficially…”

Ben falls quiet for a long moment, tracing the wood grain of the table with his fingertip.

“Your mother,” Rey manages around the lump in her throat. “She forgave you. Helped you.”

Ben nods, and Rey can see tears shining in his eyes. “Set me up in this house, kept me enrolled in my doctoral program online, made sure I had groceries delivered and a cleaning service in that first year when I was so despondent that I could barely dress myself. Paid to have the place decorated for the holidays. We still fight about the drinking, but it’s… better than it used to be. She just wants me to have healthier outlets to deal with the silence.”

He’s quiet again. “That’s why... she wanted me to start talking to someone, even online, just so I wouldn’t be so isolated all the time. Find someone who might… might be able to care, might be able to see beyond everything I’ve…” He hesitates. “She’s still angry with me, in some ways. But...”

“She loves you,” Rey says, feeling tears pricking at her own eyes. “Ben, she loves you so much.” There’s a part of her that could almost hate him for it, having a family that loves him that much, enough to help him, to shield him, to pick him up at his lowest…

“Rey.” There’s a hand on her cheek, a thumb brushing away a stray tear, and she starts as Ben comes around the table and kneels before her. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I never wanted to lie to you, but I never thought that... “ He hesitates before taking her hands in his, and she lets him. “I never thought that you might want this, too. That you would ever… be here, like this. With me.”

“How could you not?” Rey asks, gazing at him in open wonder. “Ben… the minute we started talking, the minute I… saw your face, the minute I stopped being Kira and you saw me for me, for _Rey…_ ”

She shakes her head, swallowing hard and fighting back tears. “I saw a future,” she manages as Ben squeezes her hands. “Just… just the shape of it, but solid and clear. The two of us, together, facing whatever the world throws at us. But we can’t…” Her heart clenches painfully in her chest, and she can’t meet his soft, sad gaze. “Ben… you need to finish your sentence before I could ever…”

“The monitor comes off on January second.”

Rey blinks owlishly at him. “...what?”

Ben’s eyes are shining, and he stands, bringing Rey up with him. “January second,” he repeats, stroking his thumbs against the backs of her hands. “My first hearing, the end of my three years. If all goes well, I’m a free man.”

It takes a moment for his words to register, and Rey blinks up at him. “Free… you’re free? In a _week?_ ”

Ben shrugs. “What can I say?” he says with a weak smile. “I guess SexyKira was in the wrong place at the right time.”

Rey gives him a lopsided smile in return, hesitating before gingerly wrapping her arms around his middle. Ben gasps softly above her before pulling her into a firmer embrace, resting his cheek against the top of her head. “Rey,” he murmurs.

Just that, just her name spoken like a reverent prayer.

_Rey._

“I’m still mad at you,” she says, voice muffled against the front of his shirt. “You should have told me. Especially before I jerked you off.”

“I should have,” Ben murmurs. “I know. But in my defense, you didn’t exactly have me thinking clearly with those clever little hands of yours.”

“You had an entire week before then _without_ my hands to distract you, but you were too busy asking about Kira’s pussy.” Rey is blushing but tightens her grip around his muscular torso.

Ben barks a laugh and kisses her temple. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Mm.” Rey glances out the kitchen windows to the first orange-red rays of sunrise gilding the frosted white pines outside. “...it’s morning,” she says softly.

Ben sighs deeply, holding her just a fraction tighter. “I’m a man of my word,” he says, nuzzling her gently before releasing her from his arms. “I… understand if this is…”

His eyes widen as Rey rises up on her tiptoes, curves one hand around the back of his neck and brings his lips down to hers in a soft, warm kiss.

After a moment, she pulls away, stroking his hair and resting her free hand against his chest. “Give me time,” she murmurs. “I think… I need to process everything. You. Us.”

Ben crooks a smile at her, and already she can feel the warmth spreading through her mending heart. “Hey,” he says meaningfully, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He leans down for another kiss, only to pull back at the sound of a frantic pounding on the front door, accompanied by the repeated ringing of the doorbell.

“Rey!” a masculine voice roars from the front porch, muffled through the door but sharp with purpose. “Rey, are you in there?”

“We’re here to rescue you!” a feminine voice calls. “The police are with us!”

Ben freezes in her arms, and Rey groans, resting her head against his chest.

“...I knew I should have answered my phone,” she says with a sigh.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for the amazing reception this fic has gotten! I didn't intend to end the last chapter on a giant cliffhanger as well, but I promise it's not as bad as it seems, and this one ends in a good place (especially for Rey... ahem). This chapter is also about twice as long as usual (and deliberately checks a few trope boxes), so hopefully that's a good thing! 
> 
> We're definitely starting to wind down a bit, so I'm guessing two more chapters after this one. I've greatly enjoyed the departure from my more serious work, and I'm so glad that so many of you have, too. :)

“Didn’t you text your friends?” Ben asks, and Rey can feel him tremble in her arms. “Christ… Rey, I’ve been drinking, and if the police notify my parole officer…”

Rey shushes him with one firm finger to his lips, glancing behind him to the door and narrowing her eyes. “Get upstairs and call your mother,” she says in a low voice, “and your lawyer. They’re probably just worried about me, so if they see that I’m okay…”

She trails off at the crease of concern on Ben’s brow, and he strokes his thumb over her cheekbone. “ _Are_ you okay?” he asks softly.

Rey takes a deep breath before nodding, laying her hand over his and squeezing. “Yeah,” she says after a moment, “but I’ll be a lot more okay if I know you’re safe.”

Ben shakes his head slowly, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers for the space of a heartbeat. “I don’t deserve you, Rey,” he murmurs. “Not at all.”

He starts as Rey leans up on tiptoe and presses a warm, lingering kiss to his lips. “We’ll work on deserving each other,” she says quietly. “Now _go_.”

Ben hesitates for a moment before nodding and disentangling himself from her clinging embrace, and Rey watches as he makes his way up the stairs, something sharp and awful slicing through her chest as he disappears from view.

“Rey, come on!” she hears Finn yell through the door, followed by another sharp, staccato pounding, and she takes a deep breath and strides purposefully to the front entryway.

_“She must hear us,”_ Rey hears Rose whispering from the other side of the door.

_“Not if she’s playing Jingle Bells with this guy.”_

_“Finn, for the love of...”_

_“‘Don’t wait up,’ she says. You_ **_know_ ** _what that means.”_

_“Yes, it means that Rey is having a much warmer Christmas than I am at the moment so I say we give it thirty seconds before we_ **_actually_ ** _call…”_

Rey opens the door wide to reveal Finn and Rose facing each other on the front porch, Rose’s arms crossed, Finn’s hands on his hips, Rose’s voice trailing off as she takes in Rey’s scowling posture. “Rey! Oh, thank god you’re okay!”

Rey’s eyes widen as Rose unfolds her arms and reveals the crackling taser in her right hand. “Now where’s your friend?” she asks meaningfully.

“We just want to talk,” Finn says in a low voice.

Rey purses her lips in irritation and scans the yard and street past them, silent and still in the red-orange dawn of Christmas morning.

“Where are the police?” she asks tightly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Rose and Finn exchange a look, and Rose’s hand tightens on her taser. “Rey,” she says, “your friend isn’t who you think he is. When you said you were staying over, we ran a background check on him.”

“Twenty-five dollars to some sketchy reporting company, _gone_...” Finn grouses, wincing when Rose smacks him on the chest with her free hand.

_“And,”_ Rose continues, leveling Finn with a sharp glare, “it turns out that Ben Solo of Coruscant…”

“A.k.a. the guy whose candy cane you’re polishing…”

“Finn, I swear to god, I will use this.”

“...sorry.”

“...was convicted of DUI _and_ vehicular manslaughter in 2015,” Rose finishes. “It looks like he had enough influence to get the story squashed, but we asked around on Facebook, tracked down some distant family members…”

“Have you guys been to _sleep_ yet?” Rey asks incredulously.

“...and it looks like he was involved in some kind of drug operation out of the Coruscanti underworld a few years back and ended up on house arrest,” Rose says, her eyes narrowed as she hoists her taser. “So we came to rescue you.”

“Christmas miracle,” Finn adds helpfully.

“We still have plenty of cookies at the house, and you’re welcome to come… to…” Rose trails off, the taser falling limply to her side. “...my, you’re tall.”

Rey’s brow furrows in confusion, and she turns to find herself planted face-first in an increasingly-familiar broad chest.

“Those are illegal in Coruscant, you know,” Ben says, deadpan, inclining his head towards the taser in Rose’s hand.

Finn narrows his eyes and takes Rose’s free hand protectively in his. “You’d be the expert on that, wouldn’t you,” he says through gritted teeth. “Jig’s up, pal. We told her what you are.”

Ben raises an eyebrow as he rests his hand at the small of Rey’s back. “And what am I?”

“A criminal. A killer. And…” Finn glances at Ben’s undershirt. “...very bad at dressing appropriately for winter weather. Bro, it’s like 15 degrees out here, how are you not freezing.”

“Maybe I was keeping him warm before you got here,” Rey says pointedly, and she can feel the rumble of suppressed laughter through Ben’s chest. She turns to him, taking his hand and ignoring Finn’s wide-eyed stare. “I think they were bluffing about the cops.”

“So I heard from my mother. Looks like they did call about a possible welfare check, but you haven’t been gone nearly long enough or done anything to cause concern, and my mother and Lando vouched for your safety. False alarm.”

Rey nods, leaning up to kiss Ben quickly on the cheek. “Give me a minute, okay,” she murmurs. “I’ll be right back in.”

Ben retreats back into the house with a nod, the door closing softly behind him, and Rey crosses her arms against the front of her borrowed T-shirt, chuffing her hands against her forearms as she narrows her eyes at Finn and Rose. “So a few things,” she says in a tight voice. “One… he told me about his past. It’s… complicated. But he’s not the monster you think he is. He's not a bad guy. I promise.”

Finn starts to say something, but Rose squeezes his hand and he falls silent.

“Two, I know you were worried about me, but the fact that you called the cops on _me,_ not even on him, is a major invasion of privacy.”

“Rey…” Finn tries again, abashed, “we were just…”

“I know,” Rey says softly. “And three…”

She gives them both a weak smile, flinging her arms around them, carefully navigating around Rose’s taser and resting her head against Finn’s shoulder. “...you two are the best friends anyone could ever ask for,” she finishes, smile widening as Rose tosses aside her taser to join Finn in enveloping her in a giant hug. “What were you even planning to do when you got here?” she asks, voice thick with emotion.

“We were going to bring you home safely,” Rose says sheepishly, pointing to her taser. “No matter what.”

_“And_ we wanted you to know the truth about… what’s his name,” Finn mutters. “So he told you?”

Rey nods, pulling a fraction out of the embrace. “He told me, yeah,” she says softly.

“All of it?”

“All of it.”

Finn chews his bottom lip. “So what you’re saying is,” he begins, “we didn’t even _need_ to spend the twenty dollars…”

“Twenty-five, you said.”

Finn groans, scrubbing a hand across his face, and Rey can’t help but smile. “Fuck it,” Finn swears, wrapping an arm around Rey’s shoulders. “We’d spend two hundred to keep you safe.”

“Two thousand,” Rose insists, and Rey smiles and draws her closer.

“I’m safe,” Rey says quietly. “And I’m…”

Finn and Rose watch her curiously.

“I’m _happy,_ ” Rey finishes, a slow, warm smile spreading across her features. “I know, it’s…” She hesitates. “Maybe it’s not the wisest thing I’ve ever done. Maybe… maybe it’s ridiculous and maybe there are a hundred other guys who have easier pasts and a smoother road ahead. But…”

Rose’s eyes flash in understanding, and she takes Rey’s hand in both of hers. “He’s…” she says meaningfully, eyes bright.

Rey nods, biting her lip. “He is,” she says.

Finn looks between them, brow furrowed in confusion. “...dear god,” he sighs, rolling his eyes heavenward, “they’re speaking in code.”

“Like you haven’t watched every single new Hallmark movie with me this year,” Rose says with a smile, lightly punching Finn in the arm.

“Hey, now that’s just quality holiday entertainment.” Finn’s smile softens, and he draws Rey into another tight hug. “You’re sure you’re okay, sweetheart?”

Rey nods, hugging him back tightly. “I…” she pauses, glancing to the door behind her. “I’m where I want to be,” she says after a moment, and it feels _right_ somehow, a warmth spilling through her chest and down to her bones at the thought that Ben is on the other side of that door, waiting for her.

Waiting for _them._

\---

“Call us when you’re on your way home, okay?” Rose says meaningfully, kissing Rey on the cheek. “And if we don’t hear from you by tonight…”

“I know, I know, welfare check and _actual_ cops,” Rey rolls her eyes on a smile. Finn squeezes her hand, and then he and Rose are making their way down the front walk to their SUV.

Rey watches as they climb in, as they talk softly to each other for long moments in the front, and Rose’s eyes are bright as Finn leans over from the driver’s side and kisses her before backing carefully out of the driveway.

She can’t seem to help the wan smile that comes to her face even as she shivers on the front porch in her stocking feet, clad only in worn jeans and the faded T-shirt Ben had loaned her, watching the orange-bright sky illuminating the tidy houses along the street, and she can distantly hear the happy cries of children, no doubt stumbling across the presents Santa had brought them.

“Rey?”

She feels hot tears tracking down her cheeks as she blinks once, twice, and Ben’s arms come warm and tight around her from behind, his chin resting against the top of her head. Across the street there’s a sturdy colonial with smoke rising from its chimney, its yard strung with lights and holiday decorations. The house is ringed with sturdy pine trees dusted with snow, and Rey imagines a wide backyard with a plentiful garden in the summer, a dog… no, two dogs frolicking, even they shouldn’t have to be alone, and…

She closes her eyes and rests her head back against Ben’s chest, resting her hands against his where they’re clasped around her middle.

And her and Ben, just like this, here, together.

“Close call,” he murmurs, and she can feel the bob of his Adam’s apple.

“Would you have been in trouble if the police had actually come?” Rey asks quietly.

Ben shrugs. “It probably wouldn’t have looked great if they’d taken a BAC and found out that I’d been drinking. It’s not that I’m not allowed to, but leading up to the hearing…” He sighs. “I’m trying to be on my best behavior. Especially now that…”

He trails off, his arms tightening around Rey just a fraction.

“Now that what?”

Ben hesitates before twining his fingers with hers, holding her close. Their breath is frosted in the cold winter air, but the space in his arms is warm, with hope, with promise, with what could be...

“I have something worth waiting for,” he says softly.

He tips his head down for a kiss, only to be interrupted by Rey’s wide yawn.

“...sorry,” she winces, feeling her cheeks flush in the soft morning light. “I think I’ve been awake for something like twenty-seven hours at this point.”

Ben nods, quirking a grin at her. “Me too. We should probably get some rest.”

The ‘we’ hangs between them, suspended and heavy with meaning, as they make their way back into the house hand-in-hand.

The fire has burned low, and the living room is illuminated by the twinkling starlight of the towering Christmas tree and the red-orange rays of sunrise spilling through the oversized bay windows. “...I think your mother said something about this house having four bedrooms?” Rey hazards, glancing up the winding staircase.

Ben hesitates before nodding, gently squeezing her hand. “Let me run to the linen closet and I’ll fix up one of the spare rooms for…” He trails off as Rey ducks her head. “Rey?”

“...the other bedrooms aren’t already made up?”

Ben stares at her, inscrutable, for a long moment. “Two haven’t had their linens changed or aired in at least two years, and the second was stripped yesterday after my mother stayed over for a few days. It shouldn’t take more than a few…”

He falls silent as Rey moves to face him, her thumbs playing over the backs of his hands. “So…” she says quietly, “there’s one bed that’s already made up.”

“...yes,” Ben affirms, voice soft and dark even as it trails off on a question.

“Yours.”

“Yes.” His hands are trembling in hers, just a little, just enough to notice if one was paying attention.

Which, Rey is slowly realizing, she always is with him.

“Is it a big bed?”

“It’s a queen, but I’m not exactly…”

Ben’s breath hitches in his throat as Rey lays her hand against his chest, staring up into his eyes with her own gone dark.

“Take me to bed, Ben,” she whispers.

\---

It’s somehow the most intimate moment yet, the strange closeness and vulnerability of dressing for bed with another person.

“Is this…” Ben hesitates, his hands on the hem of his undershirt and a question in his eyes.

Rey nods as she unhooks her worn bra beneath her T-shirt and slides the straps down her arms, feeling her cheeks heat as Ben’s broad back and bare chest come into view. “You can…” She gestures awkwardly to his jeans. “Sleeping in those would be… really uncomfortable.”

Ben turns to her, bare-chested and beautiful in the early morning light, before nodding and divesting himself of his jeans, leaving him clad only in his boxer shorts.

Rey slips her bra off beneath her T-shirt and hesitates at the fly of her own jeans at the sight once again of the plastic monitor around Ben’s ankle blinking silently.

_One more week,_ she tells herself, before taking a deep breath and slipping off her jeans.

And then it’s just the two of them, standing awkwardly at the foot of his bed, she in a T-shirt and panties, he in his boxers, shivering just a little in the cold morning air.

Rey ducks her head and crawls into bed first. There’s a thick, dark duvet over the mattress, fresh and neatly-creased dark sheets beneath it, and Rey sighs as she snuggles in beneath the covers, feeling drowsy almost as soon as her head hits the pillow.

The bed dips beside her, and then she’s warm from head to toe as Ben gingerly curls against her, big spoon to her little spoon.

She can feel him pulling back, just barely touching her, but he’s _warm_ and wonderful and she takes his hands in hers and pulls them around her, dragging him close and flush against her body.

“Rey,” he says, and Rey feels it rumble through his chest and holds it close, the way her name feels against her skin, beneath his. “Are you sure you…”

She shushes him, rubbing her bare leg against his. “Yes,” she says softly. “I want…”

_I want to be here, with you._

_I want to believe that you’re more than your past._

_I want you to be mine._

_I want to be yours._

_I want you to…_

“...what?” It’s whispered against her ear, a soft, breathy thing in that deep, dulcet voice that shoots straight to her core, and she can feel a burst of unfulfilled frustration from earlier come back in force.

“...I’m frightened of this,” she says, and she’s surprised by her own forthrightness, here in this sleepy morning, in the warm arms of a man she’s come to hold far dearer than she could have ever expected. “Of…”

Ben waits, gently stroking his thumb over the indentation above her hip.

“...I don’t want to have sex,” she says in a rush, closing her eyes and wincing for the rebuff she expects will come. “Not… not fully, not tonight.”

Ben pauses before kissing her temple. “I thought we were just sleeping,” he says after a moment. “I’m too tired to do much of anything, truth be told.”

Rey purses her lips and nudges his toes with her cold ones. “I don’t…” She hesitates. “I don’t mean, not ever, but I’m still…”

_I’m afraid of what happens in a week._

_I’m afraid of… getting closer to you than I already have._

_I’m afraid of what this might look like when you have freedom again, when you can look and find other options…_

There’s a slow, lingering kiss against her nape, a hand slipping beneath her T-shirt to lie flat and warm against her belly. “So we go slow,” he murmurs, pressing soft kisses to the side of her neck, her throat. “No one’s saying we have to get married. This doesn’t even have to be anything.”

Rey closes her eyes and groans. “Out loud again?”

“Mm.” Ben nods. “It’s cute. It’s like… your brain gets so full of emotions and ideas that you can’t help but express them.”

“It’s rather inconvenient.”

“I like it. Tells me what you’re really thinking.” Rey shivers as he kisses the shell of her ear before wrapping his arms more tightly around her.

His soft kisses are driving her to distraction, and Rey bites her lip and absently rubs her thighs together, flexing her toes against the mattress.

Ben notices, and he props his head up on his elbow, staring down at her with dark eyes. “You okay?”

“...yes,” she lies, squirming ineffectually into the covers and flopping over to face him with something approaching a pout. “It’s just…”

Ben’s eyes skim from her face down her chest, stopping in the vicinity of her waist, and he closes his eyes, nodding in understanding. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice soft with contrition. “You… helped me earlier and I didn’t return the favor. That was incredibly impolite of me. Especially on Christmas.”

Rey purses her lips and shrugs. “I mean… we did kind of get interrupted, so…”

Ben nods again. “No sex, right?” he says thoughtfully, trailing his fingers across her belly. “What does that mean to you? Can I…” He bites his lip, glancing down at the space between her legs, and Rey flushes and closes them tightly.

“No kissing,” she says shortly. “Not _there._ ”

Ben’s own cheeks are crimson, and he nods again. “SexyKira never really talked about what she likes, you know,” he says in a soft voice, the words brushing against her ear. “It was always… what she could do for _me._ Which was nice enough, but I always wondered…” He takes a deep breath before moving the hand at her belly a fraction upwards, just brushing the bottom of her breasts. “Is this…”

“Yes,” Rey says in a rush, lying back against the pillows and closing her eyes as Ben brings his other hand to match the first, both of them hovering, skating, not quite touching. “What… what did you wonder?” Her voice is breathless, hitching high as Ben moves to cup her breasts in his hands (so big, so _warm),_ stroking his thumbs across the tightening peaks of her nipples.

“How the girl in the picture might like to be touched,” Ben murmurs. He slips one hand down, to the hem of the T-shirt, and Rey lifts her arms up to help him remove it, leaving her clad only in her panties as Ben straddles over her, hand returning to her breasts, gently pinching and rolling her nipples between thumb and forefinger before smoothing the digits over them, soothing, firm. “What those beautiful freckles might look like flushed by moonlight.”

It’s early morning light that sees those freckles blush deeply as Ben dips his head and takes one nipple into the heat of his mouth, stroking his tongue over the flushed peak as he rolls its twin between his fingers. Rey gasps softly beneath him, twining her hands in the soft, dark waves of his hair as he suckles against her, and her toes curl against his calf.

“I dreamed of what she might sound like,” Ben whispers against the curve of her breast, his breath ghosting against the tight peak, “if she would gasp or moan, or be more the silent type.”

“Ben…” Rey groans, and she’s strangely thrilled by how wanton it sounds, his name extended and honey-silk on her tongue as his right hand strokes warmly across her belly, his fingertips grazing over the edge of her panties. “ _Yes.”_

She jolts upright at the first brush of his fingers against her damp folds, and Ben shushes her, bringing his free hand up to cup the back of her head, stroking against her nape as he parts her, delving deep and spreading her growing moisture over her aching clit. “I figured out pretty quickly that she wouldn’t be quiet,” Ben says softly, rubbing his thumb in soft circles as his fingers dip and tease at her entrance. “She has a habit of saying exactly what she… feels.”

One thick, blunt finger curls inside her, sliding in to the second knuckle like a hot knife through butter, and Rey tangles her fingers in Ben’s hair on a low moan.

“Just like that,” Ben murmurs. “God, Rey, do you have any idea how beautiful you are like this?”

Rey shakes her head as his finger begins to thrust lazily in and out of her, as his thumb presses more firmly to her clit, and her fingers are trembling as she wraps them around his wrist.

“Just…” she pants, trembling, nudging his fingers up just a fraction, _“here_. Like this. Small… small, tight circles. Firm.”

Ben nods, kissing her forehead, her eyelids, her temple as he begins to rub her more firmly, the fingers of his free hand sliding into the hair at her nape as he adds another finger to the tight, aching heat of her cunt.

Rey rolls her hips against his hand, her breath coming in short, tight pants, feeling her climax cresting high as Ben stares down at her with his pupils blown wide, a sheen of sweat across his forehead.

“Just… just a little more…”

Ben’s fingers move faster, and she can’t tell who’s breathing harder, her or him. “That’s it,” he murmurs. “Come for me, beautiful.”

That sultry-dark voice, the same way she’s heard in her dreams, her body writhing beneath his clever fingers, in the thrall of his whispered words of adoration.

He kisses her when she comes, his tongue in her mouth, his fingers in her cunt, her heart in his hands.

\---

There’s time for afterglow this time, in a way that there hadn’t been earlier when she’d had his cum on her fingers and his cock in her hand, when the slow blinking light of the ankle monitor had been a harbinger of fear rather than a pointed reminder of _soon,_ **_soon._ **

Rey is breathing hard as Ben rolls her over him, switching sides on the bed, and she wants to laugh at the idea of this tall, broad man with dark eyes and a tortured past voluntarily sleeping in the cooling wet spot she’d left against the sheets.

“Good?” Ben murmurs against her shoulder, pressing a warm kiss to the bared flesh.

Rey sighs and snuggles closer to him, slotting one leg between his, resting her hands against his arms as they wrap tightly around her.

The day is growing brighter beyond his room, and she can hear church bells tolling in the distance, see the light outside turning gray as a few snowflakes flutter against the windowpane.

She’s tired, more tired than she’s ever been in her life…

But happy. Sated.

And, as Ben presses kisses to her skin, as he murmurs something she can’t quite hear against her, as he draws her close and cradles her in his arms…

Loved.

“Good,” she affirms on a sigh.

There’s a soft kiss to her forehead, adoring, cherishing, and she almost wants to laugh, that this warm, wonderful moment could come out of something so strange...

But it has, just the same.

And she wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Merry Christmas, Ben,” she murmurs sleepily, closing her eyes.

When she finally drifts off to sleep, Ben is still holding her close.


End file.
